The repast lasted a good hour.
James Starr and Simon Ford had not only eaten much, but talked
much too, chiefly of their past life in the old Aberfoyle mine.
Harry had been rather silent. Twice he had left the table,
and even the house. He evidently felt uneasy since the incident
of the stone, and wished to examine the environs
of the cottage. The anonymous letter had not contributed
to reassure him.
Whilst he was absent, the engineer observed to Ford and his wife,
"That's a fine lad you have there, my friends."
"Yes, Mr. Starr, he is a good and affectionate son,"
replied the old overman earnestly.
"Is he happy with you in the cottage?"
"He would not wish to leave us."
"Don't you think of finding him a wife, some day?"
"A wife for Harry," exclaimed Ford. "And who would it be?
A girl from up yonder, who would love merry-makings and dancing,
who would prefer her clan to our mine! Harry wouldn't do it!"
"Simon," said Madge, "you would not forbid that Harry should
take a wife."
"I would forbid nothing," returned the old miner, "but there's
no hurry about that. Who knows but we may find one for him--"
Harry re-entered at that moment, and Simon Ford was silent.
When Madge rose from the table, all followed her example,
and seated themselves at the door of the cottage. "Well, Simon,"
said the engineer, "I am ready to hear you.
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