I was at the piano, singing Jacobite melodies for Salemina's delectation.

When I came to the last verse of Lady Nairne's 'Hundred Pipers,' the spirited words had taken my fancy captive, and I am sure I could not have sung with more vigour and passion had my people been 'out with the Chevalier.' 'The Esk was swollen sae red an' sae deep, But shouther to shouther the brave lads keep; Twa thousand swam owre to fell English ground, An' danced themselves dry to the pibroch's sound.
Dumfounder'd the English saw, they saw, Dumfounder'd they heard the blaw, the blaw, Dumfounder'd they a' ran awa', awa', Frae the hundred pipers an' a', an' a'!' By the time I came to 'Dumfounder'd the English saw,' Francesca left her book and joined in the next four lines, and when we broke into the chorus Salemina rushed to the piano, and although she cannot sing, she lifted her voice both high and loud in the refrain, beating time the while with a dirk paper-knife.
'Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a', Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a', We'll up an' gie them a blaw, a blaw, Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a'!' Susanna ushered in Mr.Macdonald and Dr.Moncrieffe as the last 'blaw' faded into silence, and Jean Dalziel came upstairs to say that they could seldom get a quiet moment for family prayers, because we were always at the piano, hurling incendiary sentiments into the air,--sentiments set to such stirring melodies that no one could resist them.
"We are very sorry, Miss Dalziel," I said penitently.

"We reserve an hour in the morning and another at bedtime for your uncle's prayers, but we had no idea you had them at afternoon tea, even in Scotland.

I believe that you are chaffing, and came up only to swell the chorus.
Come, let us all sing together from 'Dumfounder'd the English saw.'" Mr.Macdonald and Dr.Moncrieffe gave such splendid body to the music, and Jean such warlike energy, that Salemina waved her paper-knife in a manner more than ever sanguinary, and Susanna, hesitating outside the door for sheer delight, had to be coaxed in with the tea-things.

On the heels of the tea-things came the Dominie, another dear old friend of six weeks' standing; and while the doctor sang 'Jock o' Hazeldean' with such irresistible charm that we all longed to elope with somebody on the instant, Salemina dispensed buttered toast, marmalade sandwiches, and the fragrant cup.