“Why, yes, Elizabeth,” he answered calmly.

The Laird scowled at her, but she ignored the scowl; so old Hector flashed a warning glance to Jane and her mother—­a glance that said quite plainly:  “Let there be no upbraiding of my son.”

“Do you think it is quite—­ah, delicate of you, Donald, to call upon any young lady at her apartments in the absence of a proper chaperon, even if the lady herself appears to have singularly free and easy views on the propriety of receiving you thus?”

He saw that she was bound to force the issue and was rather relieved than otherwise.  With a mental promise to himself to keep his temper at all hazards he replied:  “Well, Elizabeth, I’ll admit the situation is a trifle awkward, but what cannot be cured must be endured.  You see, I want to have a talk with Nan Brent and I cannot do so unless I call upon her at the Sawdust Pile.  It is impossible for us to meet on neutral ground, I fear.  However, if you will write her a nice friendly little note and invite her up here to visit me, the question of a chaperon will be solved and I will postpone my visit until she gets here.”

“Don’t be a fool,” she retorted bitterly.

“As for Nan’s free and easy views on the subjects, who in Port Agnew, may I ask, expects her to act differently?  Why, therefore, since she is fully convinced that I possess a few of the outward appearances of a gentleman, should she fear to receive me in her home?  To conform to the social standards of those who decry her virtue?  Elizabeth, you expect too much, I fear.”

“Hear, hear,” cried The Laird.  He realized that Elizabeth was not to be denied, so he thought best to assume a jocular attitude during the discussion.

“Father,” his eldest daughter reminded him.  “It is your duty to forbid Donald doing anything which is certain to bring his family into disrepute and make it the target for the tongue of scandal.”

“Oh, leave him alone, you pestiferous woman,” old Hector cried sharply.  “Had it not been for the girl he would not be living this minute, so the least he can do is to express his compliments to her.  Also, since this disagreeable topic has again been aired, let me remind you that the lass isn’t going to marry Donald.  She came out here, Donald,” he continued, turning to his son, “with the distinct understanding that her job was to humor you back to health, and for that you owe her your thanks and I’m willing you should call on her and express them.  Don’t flattter yourself that she’ll marry you, my boy.  I’ve had a talk with her—­since you must know it, sooner or later—­and she promised me she wouldn’t.”

The young Laird’s face paled a little but he maintained his composure.  “I greatly fear you misunderstood her, father,” he replied gently.  “She promised me she’d marry me.  You see,” he added looking the old man resolutely in the face, “I think she’s virtuous, so I’m going to marry her.”