out. You that can dance a reel, come to this end; the others will soon
pick it up. Now, piper boys, have you got the steam up? What can you
give us, now? 'Monymusk?' or the 'Marquis of Huntley's Fling?' or 'Miss
Johnston?' Nay, stay a bit. Don't you know 'Mrs. Macleod of Raasay?'"

"Yes," "Yes," "Yes," "Yes," "Yes," "Yes," came from the six pipers, all
standing in a row, with the drones over their shoulders and the chanters
in their fingers.

"Very well, then--off you go! Now, boys and girls, are all ready?
Pipers, 'Mrs. Macleod of Raasay!'"

For a second there was a confused roaring on the long drones; then the
shrill chanters broke clear away into the wild reel; and presently the
boys and girls, who were at first laughingly shy and embarrassed, began
to make such imitations of the reel figure, which they had seen often
enough, as led to a vast amount of scrambling and jollity, if it was not
particularly accurate. The most timid of the young ones soon picked up
courage. Here and there one of the older boys gave a whoop that would
have done justice to a wedding dance in a Highland barn.

"Put your lungs into it, pipers!" Macleod cried out, "Well played, boys!
You are fit to play before a prince?"

The round cheeks of the boys were red with their blowing; they tapped
their toes on the ground as proudly as if every one of them was a
MacCruimin; the wild noise in this big, empty hall grew more furious
than ever--when suddenly there was an awful silence. The pipers whipped
the chanters from their mouths; the children, suddenly stopping in their
merriment, cast one awestruck glance at the door, and then slunk back to