Carrie Royde did not like being beaten. She turned back to Gaelic Without Tears. Yes, there it was. Good day. La math (lah mah). She tried again.

“La math.”

“I couldn’t tell you, mistress, I’m afraid. I only came here from Glasgow two weeks ago.”

“Aren’t you a Gaelic speaker?”

“No, mistress; I have nae a word of Gaelic.”

The Macdonald in Carrie was shocked by this revelation of Glenbogle’s decline, but her disappointment was lightened by the reflection that the virginity of ‘la math’ was still intact and that the phonetics of Gaelic Without Tears had not betrayed her.

“What is the meaning of that notice?” she asked. For all this painter knew that might have been what ‘la math’ had meant.

“It’s Mr MacDonald’s orders,” she was told.

“Ben Nevis’s orders?” she enquired, with a note of rebuke in her voice.

“Ay, mistress, that’s right. Ben Nevis himself, as they call him up here. They’ve been plagued a lot by these hikers, as they call them, and I have orders to paint a couple of dozen of these notice-boards all about the estate.”

“Well, you have lovely weather for your painting.”

“Ay, it hasna rained for nearly a week. Most extraordinary’, the fellows on the estate tell me. Begging your pardon, mistress, are you from London?”

“No; I’m an American Macdonald.”

“Well, well, is that so? I’m a Macdonald mysel’.”

“You must be very happy working in this part of the country, aren’t you?”

“Och ay, I like it well enough. But it’s no’ Glasgow, ye ken. Were you never in Glasgow, mistress?”

“No, I never was.”

The painter shook his head sympathetically.

“Dinna fash yoursel’, mistress. Och ay, you’ll visit Glasgow one of these days. It’s a bonny bonny city. Full of life, and the trams are sae convenient. I’ll be back there mysel’ in October. It’s unco dreich in Glenbogle.”