Three Boys Part 15

"I say, Grant, aren't there any hot scones this morning?"

"No, sir," said the butler, in an ill-used whisper.

"Why not?"

"The cook says she can't do everything without a.s.sistance."

"Then she ought to get up earlier--a lazy old toad! It was just as bad when there was a kitchen-maid."

The butler looked more severe than ever, and left the room.

"He's always grumbling, Max--here, have some marmalade."

Max took a little of the golden preserve, and began to spread it on a piece of bread.

"You are a fellow," said Kenneth mockingly; "that isn't the way to eat marmalade. Put a lot of b.u.t.ter on first."

"What, with jam?"

"Of course," said Kenneth, with a grin, as he gave a piece of bread a thick coating of yellow b.u.t.ter, and then plastered it with the golden red-rinded sweet. "That's the way to eat marmalade!" he cried, taking, out a fine half-moon from the slice. "That's the economical way."

"Extravagant, you mean?"

"No, I don't; I mean economical. Don't you see it saves the bread? One piece does for both b.u.t.ter and marmalade."

"I don't know how you manage to eat so much. You had a fried herring and--"

"A piece of salmon, and some game pie, and etceteras. That's nothing.

I often have a plate of porridge as well. You'll eat as much as I do when you've been down here a week."

"I hope not."

"Nonsense! Why, it's just what you want. Here, you let me take you in hand, and I'll soon make a difference in you. See how white and thin you are."

"Am I?"

"Yes, horrid! You shall have some porridge and milk to-morrow morning.

That's the stuff, as Long Shon says, to lean your back against for the day."

"I don't understand you!"

"Lean it against forwards," said Kenneth, laughing. "Besides, we only have two meals here a day."

"Only two?" cried Max, staring. "Why, we always have four at home!"

"That's because you don't know any better, I suppose. You can have lunch and tea here if you like," said Kenneth contemptuously, "but we never do--we haven't time."

"Haven't time?"

"No. Who's going to come back miles from shooting or fis.h.i.+ng for the sake of a bit of lunch. I always take mine with me."

"Oh, then you do take lunch?" said Max, with a look of relief.

"Yes, always," said Kenneth, showing his white teeth. "I'm taking it now--inside. And old Grant's always grumbling to me about having so much to do now father does not keep any other men-servants indoors.

Only two meals a day to see to, and we very seldom have any company now."

"I hope Mr Blande is making a good breakfast, Kenneth," said The Mackhai, laying down his newspaper.

"No, father, not half a one."

"Oh, thank you, I am indeed."

"I hope Mr Blande will," said The Mackhai stiffly. "Pray do not let him think we are wanting in hospitality at Dunroe."

"I'll take care of him, father."

"Quite right, Ken. What are you going to do to-day?"

"Take him up to the Black Pools and try for a salmon, and go afterwards with the guns across the moor up Glen Doy, and then right up the Ten after a hare or two. After that we could take the boat, and--"

"I think your programme is long enough for to-day, Ken," said The Mackhai dryly. "You will excuse me, Mr Blande," he continued, with formal politeness; "I have some letters to write."

"How about the deer, father?"

"Shon is packing them off for the South, my boy. Good morning."

The Mackhai walked stiffly out of the room, and Kenneth seized a plate and knife and fork, after which he cut a triangle of a solid nature out of a grouse pie, and pa.s.sed the ma.s.s of juicy bird, gelatinous gravy, and brown crust to his guest.

"I couldn't, indeed I couldn't!" cried Max.

"But you must," cried Kenneth, leaping up. "I'm going to ring for some more hot coffee!"

"No, no, don't, pray!" cried Max, rising from the table.

"Oh, all right," said Kenneth, in an ill-used manner; "but how am I to be hospitable if you won't eat? Come on, then, and I'll introduce you to Long Shon. I'll bet a s.h.i.+lling he has got Scood helping him, and so greasy that he won't be fit to touch."

Max stared, and Kenneth laughed at his wonderment.

"Didn't you hear what my father said? Shon has been skinning and breaking up the deer."

"Breaking up the deer?"

"Well, not with a hammer, of course. Doing what a butcher does--cutting them up in joints, you'd call it. Come along."

He led the way into the hall, seized his cap, and went on across the old castle court, stopping to throw a stone at a jackdaw, perched upon one of the old towers.

"He's listening for Donald. That's his place where he practises. I daresay he's up there now, only we can't stop to see."