His handsome face was set in a fretful
frown.
"Moira, my daughter!" he exclaimed, "how often have I spoke to you about
this--this--unseemly--ah--mussing and meddling in the servants' duties!"
"But, Papa," cried his daughter, "look at these dear things! I love them
and they all know me, and they behave so much better when I feed them
myself. Do they not, Janet?" she added, turning to the stout and sonsy
farmer's daughter standing by.
"Indeed, then, they are clever at knowing you," replied the maid, whose
particular duty was to hold a reserve supply of food for the fowls that
clamoured and scrambled about her young mistress.
"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.
Pages:
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34