“Say, Donald,” he began, invitingly—­“did you see the big yacht that came in last night about ten o’clock?”

“Ou ay!” was the slow answer—­“But my name’s no Tonald,—­it’s just Jamie.”

Captain Derrick laughed jovially.

“Beg pardon!  Jamie, then!  Did you see the yacht?”

“Ou ay!  I’ve seen her mony a day.  She’s a real shentleman.”

I smiled.

“The yacht?”

Jamie looked up at me.

“Ah, my leddy, ye’ll pe makin’ a fule o’ Jamie wi’ a glance like a sun-sparkle on the sea!  Jamie’s no fule wi’ the right sort, an’ the yacht is a shentleman, an’ the shentleman’s the yacht, for it’s the shentleman that pays whateffer.”

Captain Derrick became keenly interested.

“The gentleman?  The owner of the yacht, you mean?”

Jamie nodded—­“Just that!”—­and proceeded to count out his store of new-laid eggs with great care as he placed them in the steward’s basket.

“What’s his name?”

“Ah, that’s ower mickle learnin’,”—­said Jamie, with a cunning look--"I canna say it rightly.”

“Can you say it wrongly?” I suggested.

“I wadna!” he replied, and he lifted his eyes, which were dark and piercing, to my face—­“I daurna!”

“Is he such a very terrible gentleman, then?” enquired Captain Derrick, jocosely.

Jamie’s countenance was impenetrable.

“Ye’ll pe seein’ her for yourself whateffer,”—­he said—­“Ye’ll no miss her in the waters ‘twixt here an’ Skye.”

He stooped and fumbled in his basket, presently bringing out of it a small bunch of pink bell-heather,—­the delicate waxen type of blossom which is found only in mossy, marshy places.

“The shentleman wanted as much as I could find o’ this,”—­he said—­ “An’ he had it a’ but this wee bittie.  Will my leddy wear it for luck?”

I took it from his hand.

“As a gift?” I asked, smiling.

“I wadna tak ony money for’t,”—­he answered, with a curious expression of something like fear passing over his brown, weather-beaten features—­“‘Tis fairies’ making.”

I put the little bunch in my dress.  As I did so, he doffed his cap.

“Good day t’ye!  I’ll be no seein’ ye this way again!”

“Why not?  How do you know?”

“One way in and another way out!” he said, his voice sinking to a sort of meditative croon—­“One road to the West, and the other to the East!—­and round about to the meeting-place!  Ou ay!  Ye’ll mak it clear sailin’!”

“Without wind, eh?” interposed Captain Derrick—­“Like your friend the ‘shentleman’?  How does he manage that business?”

Jamie looked round with a frightened air, like an animal scenting danger,—­then, shouldering his empty basket, he gave us a hasty nod of farewell, and, scrambling down the companion ladder without another word, was soon in his boat again, rowing away steadily and never once looking back.