"Look at that vain bubbly-jock there, Papa," cried Moira, "he loves to
have me notice him. Conceited creature! Look out, Papa, he does not like
your kilts!" The bubbly-jock, drumming and scraping and sidling ever
nearer to the Captain's naked knees, finally with great outcry flew
straight at the affronting kilts.

"Get off with you, you beast!" cried the Captain, kicking vainly at the
wrathful bird, and at the same time beating a wise retreat before his
onset.

Moira rushed to his rescue. "Hoot, Jock! Shame on ye!" she cried. "There
now, you proud thing, be off! He's just jealous of your fine appearance,
Papa." With her kerchief she flipped into submission the haughty
bubbly-jock and drew her father out of the steading. "Come away, Papa,
and see my pigs."

But the Captain was in no humour for pigs. "Nonsense, child," he cried,
"let us get out of this mess! Besides, I wish to speak to you on a
matter of importance." They passed through the gate. "It is about
Allan," he continued, "and I'm really vexed. Something terrible has
happened."

"Allan!" the girl's voice was faint and her sunny cheek grew white.
"About Allan!" she said again. "And what is wrong with Allan, Papa?"

"That's what I do not know," replied her father fretfully; "but I
must away to Edinburgh this very day, so you'll need to hasten with my
packing. And bid Donald bring round the cart at once."