The Highland monthly - National Library of Scotland

396
Ihe Hi^hlaiid Monthly.
unsteady on the legs, touched his bonnet to John, a self
confession of inferiority which had \c\ the latter to seriously
reconsider his social position. The result was highly
satisfactory. That was fifteen years ago, when John proudly
succeeded his father, and the beadle, who hobnobbed with
Maxwell senior, had never, to his astonishment, succeeded
in getting on familiar terms with Maxwell junior. It would
have been difficult to say whether John looked more a
butler, or a groom, or something else ; which was to his
credit, for he was all three. His distinguishing personal
characteristic could only be summoned up in the word
" red "
; red hair (of obstinate fibre) ; red side whiskers ;
red face ;
red
hands— a uniformity of colour that found
ample expansion in a stoutish gentleman of 43 years of age,
with a kindly eye and an honest smirk.
This particular morning, John was shaved and done up
for the day at an unusually early hour. He naturally had
grumbled, as an hereditary official, at any member of the
family daring to interrupt his daily routine ; then he
acceeded to -Richard's request, which was that he should
deliver a letter personally, and as secretly as possible, at
and, finally, he displayed more genuine interest
in his toilet, and wore a happier expression on his homely
face, than he had done for the preceding forty years.
was something up, and that out of the common.
There
When he got beyond eyeshot of the Castle, John
plucked Richard's missive from his pocket, felt it, smelt it
the Hall ;
(he distinctly detected scent), and finally read the address :
" Miss Somerton, The Hall." Holding the packet at arm's
length, he appeared to be studying the caligraphy for a
moment, but John's thoughts had actually taken a
moralising turn.
" Weel, Maister Richard, is this richt ? " he solemnly
asked. As the envelope, to which the query was addressed,
did not respond, John proceeded : " There ye are, engaged
tae marry Miss Flora, the best lassie in the hale countryside,
an' here ye are wrichtin' scented epistles tae this American