Readily enough Cameron tuned his pipes, for he was aching to get at them and only too glad to furnish music for the gay company of kindly hearted folk who were giving him his first evening's pleasure since he had left the Cuagh Oir.
From reel to schottische and from schottische to reel, foursome and eightsome, they kept him playing, ever asking for more, till the gloaming passed into moonlight and still they were not done. The respite came through Mandy, who, solid in weight and heavy of foot, had laboured through the reels as often as she could get a partner, and at other times had sat gazing in rapt devotion upon the piper.
"Whoop her up again, Scotty!" cried Perkins, when Cameron paused at the end of a reel.
"Don't you do it!" said Mandy sharply, her deep voice booming through the barn. "He's just tired of it, and I'm tired looking at him."
There was a shout of laughter which covered poor Mandy with wrathful confusion.
"Good for you, Mandy," cried Perkins with a great guffaw. "You want some music now, don't you? So do I. Come on, Danny."
"No, I don't," snapped Mandy, who could understand neither the previous laugh nor that which greeted Perkins' sally.
"Allan," she said, sticking a little over the name, "is tired out, and besides it's time we were going home."
"That's right, take him home, Mandy, and put the little dear to bed," said Perkins.
"You needn't be so smart, Joe Perkins," said Mandy angrily.
"Anyway I'm going home. I've got to be up early."
"Me too, Mandy," said Cameron, packing up his pipes, for his sympathy had been roused for the girl who was championing him so bravely. "I have had a great night and I have played you all to death; but you will forgive me. I was lonely for the chanter. I have not touched it since I left home."
There was a universal cry of protest as they gathered about him.
"Indeed, Mr. Cameron, you have given us all a rare treat," cried Isa, coming close to him, "and I only wish you could pipe and dance at the same time."
"That's so!" cried Mack, "but what's the matter with the fiddle, Isa? Come, Danny, strike up. Let them have a reel together."
Cameron glanced at Mandy, who was standing impatiently waiting.
Perkins caught the glance.
"Oh, please let him stay, Mandy," he pleaded.
"He can stay if he likes," sniffed Mandy scornfully. "I got no string on him; but I'm goin' home. Good-night, everybody."
"Good-night, Mandy," called Perkins. "Tell them we're comin'."
"Just a moment, Mandy!" said Cameron, "and I'm with you. Another time I hope to do a reel with you, Miss MacKenzie," he said, bidding her good-night, "and I hope it will be soon."
"Remember, then," cried Isa, warmly shaking hands with him. "I will keep you to your promise at the picnic."
"Fine!" said Cameron, and with easy grace he made his farewells and set off after Mandy, who by this time was some distance down the lane.
"You needn't come for me," she said, throwing her voice at him over her shoulder.
"What a splendid night we have had!" said Cameron, ignoring her wrath. "And what awfully nice people."
Mandy grunted and in silence continued her way down the lane, picking her steps between the muddy spots and pools left by the rain.
After some minutes Cameron, who was truly sorry for the girl, ventured to resume the conversation.
"Didn't you enjoy the evening, Mandy?"
"No, I didn't!" she replied shortly. "I can't dance and they all know it."
"Why don't you learn, Mandy? You could dance if you practised."
"I can't. I ain't like the other girls. I'm too clumsy."
"Not a bit of it," said Cameron. "I've watched you stepping about the house and you are not a bit clumsy. If you only practised a bit you would soon pick up the schottische."
"Oh, you're just saying that because you know I'm mad," said Mandy, slightly mollified.
"Not at all. I firmly believe it. I saw you try a schottische to-night with Perkins and--"
"Oh, shucks!" said Mandy. "He don't give me no show. He gets mad when I tramp on him."
"All you want is practise, Mandy," replied Cameron.
"Oh, I ain't got no one to show me," said Mandy. "Perkins he won't be bothered, and--and--there's no one else," she added shyly.
"Why, I--I would show you," replied Cameron, every instinct of chivalry demanding that he should play up to her lead, "if I had any opportunity."
"When?" said Mandy simply.
"When?" echoed Cameron, taken aback. "Why, the first chance we get."
As he spoke the word they reached the new bridge that crossed the deep ditch that separated the lane from the high road.
"Here's a good place right here on this bridge," said Mandy with a giggle.
"But we have no music," stammered Cameron, aghast at the prospect of a dancing lesson by moonlight upon the public highway.
"Oh, pshaw!" said Mandy. "We don't need music. You can just count. I seen Isa showin' Mack once and they didn't have no music.
But," she added, regarding Cameron with suspicion, "if you don't want to--"
"Oh, I shall be glad to, but wouldn't the porch be better?" he replied in desperation.
"The porch! That's so," assented Mandy eagerly. "Let's hurry before the rest come home." So saying, she set off at a great pace, followed by Cameron ruefully wondering to what extent the lesson in the Terpsichorean art might be expected to go.
As soon as the porch was reached Mandy cried--"Now let's at the thing. I'm going to learn that schottische if it costs a leg."
Without stopping to enquire whose leg might be in peril, Cameron proceeded with his lesson, and he had not gone through many paces till he began to recognise the magnitude of the task laid upon him.
The girl's sense of time was accurate enough, but she was undeniably awkward and clumsy in her movements and there was an almost total absence of coordination of muscle and brain. She had, however, suffered too long and too keenly from her inability to join with the others in the dance to fail to make the best of her opportunity to relieve herself of this serious disability.
