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He was at Putney, with the 'Varsity crew, or in London with the Dovedales, riding in the Row, and forgetting dear old Hampshire and the last of the hunting, for which he would have been just in time. Even the long vacation came without Rorie.
"I would rather live in a field, and strike my roots deep down like one of those trees, than be a homeless nomad with a world-wide ambition," answered Rorie. "I have a passion for home." "Then I wonder you spend so little time in it." "Oh, I don't mean a home inside four walls. The Forest is my home, and Briarwood is no dearer to me than any other spot in it."
"Rorie, I could be happy with you if our home were no better than the charcoal-burner's hut in Mark Ash," protested Vixen. "It's very good of you to say that. Do you like sage-green?" Rorie asked with a doubtful air. "Pretty well. It reminds me of mamma's dress-maker, Madame Theodore."
"I like to do everything I can for him," she explained, as Rorie watched her with an amused smile; "I'd wisp him down if they'd let me." She left the leather panel on Titmouse's back, hung up saddle and bridle, and skipped off to a corn-chest to hunt for apples.
"Her Grace and Lady Mabel is here, sir; not the Dook." "I suppose I must dress before I face the quality," muttered Rorie sulkily, and he went leaping upstairs three steps at a time to exchange his brown shooting-clothes and leather gaiters for that dress-suit of his which was continually getting too small for him. Rorie detested himself in a dress-suit and a white tie.
"But, Vixen, how can I sit down to dinner in such a costume," remonstrated Rorie, looking down at his brown shooting-suit, leather gaiters, and tremendous boots boots which, instead of being beautified with blacking, were suppled with tallow; "I can't do it, really." "Nonsense," cried Vixen, "what does it matter? Papa seldom dresses for dinner.
"Not so weak as he is about you, Vixen." "Do you really think papa is as fond of me as he is of his dinner?" "I'm sure of it!" "Then he must be very fond of me," exclaimed Vixen, with conviction. "Now, are you coming?" Who could resist those little soft hands in doeskin? Certainly not Rorie.
We were all somewhat staggered by this outburst; and the speaker himself, after that last hoarse apostrophe, appeared to sink gloomily into his own thoughts. But Rorie, who was greedy of superstitious lore, recalled him to the subject by a question. "You will not ever have seen a teevil of the sea?" he asked. "No' clearly," replied the other.
'In the garden-or rather the orchard which was formerly the garden-is a pretty cascade, divided into two branches, and called Rorie More's Nurse, because he loved to be lulled to sleep by the sound of it. Lockhart's Scott, iv. 304. It has been said that she expressed considerable dissatisfaction at Dr. Johnson's rude behaviour at Dunvegan.
I saw my uncle running. I saw the black jump up in hot pursuit; and before I had time to understand, Rorie also had appeared, calling directions in Gaelic as to a dog herding sheep. I took to my heels to interfere, and perhaps I had done better to have waited where I was, for I was the means of cutting off the madman's last escape.
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