CHAPTER XXVIII THE HIGHLAND PIPER
"Who are you?" said I, in no very gentle tone.
"Donal's my name, sir, an' if ye had an e'e for the tartan, ye'd ken I was a Stuart."
"And what do you want here, Donald Stuart?"
"The verra question she'd be askin' ye'sel'—wha' gars ye tae come gowkin' an' spierin' aboot here at sic an hour?"
"It is my intention to live here, for the future," said I.
"Hoot toot! ye'll be no meanin' it?"
"But I do mean it," said I.
"Eh, man! but ye maun ken the place is no canny, what wi' pixies, an' warlocks, an' kelpies, forbye—"
"Indeed, they told me it was haunted, but I determined to see for myself."
"Weel?"
"Well, I am glad to find it haunted by nothing worse than a wandering
Scots piper."
The Highlander smiled his wry smile, and taking out a snuff-box,
