“If it comes to that,” he said, “I never shot a grouse in my life—­no, nor ever shot at one.”

“Because,” she continued, with a certain hesitation which was indeed far removed from her usual manner, “because you—­you seem rather sensitive to criticism—­to other people’s opinion—­and if you wouldn’t think it impertinent of me to offer you some hints—­well, for what they are worth—­”

“But I should be immensely grateful!” he answered at once.

“Well,” she said, in an undertone, so that no one should overhear, “you know, on the Twelfth, with such still weather as we have had for the last week or two, the birds are never wild; you needn’t be in the least anxious; you won’t be called upon for snap-shots at all; you can afford to take plenty of time and get well on to the birds before you fire.  You see, you will be in the middle; you will take any bird that gets up in front of you; my brother and Captain Waveney will take the outside ones and the awkward cross-shots.  And if a covey gets up all at once, they won’t expect you to pick out the old cock first; they’ll do all that; in fact, you must put yourself at your ease, and not be anxious, and everything will be right.”

“Honnor!” called Lady Adela, “Come away at once—­breakfast is in.”  So that Lionel had no proper opportunity of thanking the young lady for her friendly counsel and the interest she took in his small affairs.

Breakfast was a merry meal; for, as soon as the things had been brought in, the servants were allowed to leave; and while Lady Adela poured out the tea and coffee, the gentlemen carved for themselves at the sideboard or handed round the dishes at table.  The Rev. Mr. MacNachten, the little Free Church minister, was especially vivacious and humorous, abounding with facetious anecdotes and jests and personal reminiscences; until, observing that breakfast was over, he composed his countenance and proceeded to return thanks.  The grace (in spite of Lord Fareborough’s nervous qualms) was comparatively a short one; and at the end of it they all rose and were for going their several ways.

But this was not to the minister’s mind.

“Your leddyship,” said he, addressing his hostess in impressive tones, “it would be ill done of us to be assembled on such an occasion without endeavoring to make profitable use of it.  I propose to say a few words in season, if ye will have the kindness to call in the servants.”

Lady Adela glanced towards her husband with some apprehension on her face (for she knew the importance attached to the morning of the Twelfth); but whatever Sir Hugh may have thought, he made no sign.  Accordingly there was nothing for it but that she should ring the bell and summon the whole household; and in a few minutes the door of the room was surrounded by a group of Highland women-servants and gillies, the English servants rather hanging back in the hall.  The breakfast-party had resumed their seats; but the minister remained standing; and presently, when perfect silence had been secured, he lifted up his voice in prayer.