Royle. I heard, as we were
leaving, Mr. Royle say something to Boggley about the horse being
young and skittish, and a faint misgiving passed through me, but I
forgot it talking to Mr. Royle, and when we reached Rika I went off
to dress for dinner, taking it for granted that the others were just
behind. Letters were waiting me, and I lingered so long over them I
had to dress in a hurry, and ran to the drawing-room expecting to find
everyone waiting. But the room was empty. Hungry and puzzled, I waited
for another ten minutes, and then went along to Boggley's bedroom, to
see what _he_ meant anyway; but there was no one there. More and more
puzzled, but distinctly less hungry, I went back to the drawing-room,
looked into the dining-room, finally wandered out into the verandah,
where I found the children's old nurse Anne tidying away the
children's toys.
I said: "Nurse, where's everybody?"
Anne left the toys and lifted both hands to high heaven.
"Och! Miss Douglas dear, it wasn't for nothing I dreamt last night of
water-horses. The night before ma sister Maggie's man was killed by a
kick from a wicked grey horse (Angus M'Veecar was his name, and a fine
young lad he was) I dreamt I saw one. As big as three hills it was,
with an awful starin' white face, and a tail on it near as long as
from Portree to Sligachen. It give a great screech, and a wallop in
the face of me, and jumped into the loch, and by milkin'-time next
morning--a Thursday it was--ma sister Maggie came into the door
cryin', 'Och and och, ma poor man, and him so kind and so young,' and
fell on the floor as stiff as a board.
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