"Ian. Ian Rullock. His father's mother was a Highland lady, near
kinswoman to Gordon of Huntley." Mr. Touris was again speaking to his
host. "As a laddie, before his father's death (his mother, my sister,
died at his birth), he was much with those troublous northern kin. His
father took him, too, in England, here and there among the Tory crowd.
But I've had him since he was twelve and am carrying him on in the
straight Whig path."

"And in the true Presbyterian religion?"

"Why, as to that," said Mr. Touris, "his father was of the Church
Episcopal in Scotland. I trust that we are all Christians,
Glenfernie!"

The laird made a dissenting sound. "I kenned," he said, and his voice
held a grating gibe, "that you had left the Kirk."

Mr. Archibald Touris sipped his tea. "I did not leave it so far,
Glenfernie, that I cannot return! In England, for business reasons, I
found it wiser to live as lived the most that I served. Naaman was
permitted to bow himself in the house of Rimmon."

"You are not Naaman," answered the laird. "Moreover, I hold that
Naaman sinned!"

Mrs. Jardine would make a diversion. "Mr. Jardine, will you have sugar
to your tea? Mr. Strickland says the great pine is blown down, this
side the glen. The _Mercury_ brings us news of the great world, Mr.
Touris, but I dare say you can give us more?"