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“Why did he go on a steamer trip? He has two boats of his own and could go anywhere he liked.”

“Spur of the moment, I think,” Barbara answered quickly. “He was substituting for Fiona, who couldn't come.”

Graham was looking for a convenient place to land. Other people might deride Stuart for his crazy ideas, thought Judith, but obviously the sooner the new slipway was built, the better for everybody. As it was, she and Barbara had to take off their shoes and wade ashore, for the boat could not come in closer.

“Let me know how Susan is,” Graham called.

“Yes, all right. And thank you again, Graham,” Barbara shouted back.

Andy met them before they arrived at the house. “Don’t worry, darling,” he said to Barbara, taking her arm.

“She’s all right. Try not to make too much of it or she’ll be frightened for a while.”

“What did the doctor say?”

“A good night’s sleep. And to be more careful next time where she bangs her head.”

Indoors, while Barbara raced upstairs, Judith made a pot of tea, collected biscuits and scones and a glass of milk for Susan and took the tray up to the child’s room.

Susan was sitting up among a mound of pillows and apart from a flushed, excited face and a bandaged head, looked little the worse for her adventure.

“Drink the tea, Barbara,” urged Judith. She thought the shock had proved greater for her sister than for Susan. Presently she left Barbara recounting the day’s adventures to Susan and slipped downstairs in search of Robbie, who might be feeling rather neglected while all the fuss was being made over Susan.

“The doctor had a good word for him,” Andy told her, his eyes shining with pride. “Robbie pulled his sister up to the grass bank, well above the tide, and fortunately met Neil, who was able to find me. So between us, we managed, but I’m glad Robbie didn’t panic.”

“Barbara feels that she was partly to blame for leaving the children to come out with me for the whole day, but—”

“Oh, no, Judith. She must be free of them sometimes, and they have to learn to look after themselves within reason.”

Judith glanced up at Andy’s tanned features and kind eyes. “If she says anything to you, don’t let her blame herself. Remember she came because of me. I’ll go and find Robbie.”

The boy was hoeing rows of potatoes in the kitchen garden and Judith sought for the right words. Children usually hated the pat-on-the-head technique.

“Have you a spare hoe?” she asked. “I’ll help, though I’m not very expert at gardening.”

“If you can hoe, Aunt Judy,” he answered, giving her his tool, “I could be planting out some rows of lettuce.”

While he worked a few feet away, Judith gave her attention to the potatoes. “Have you taken over all the kitchen garden from your father?” she asked him presently.

“Oh, yes. Dad has enough to do with the sheep. Then there’s the hay. Couldn’t you stay here for the hay-cutting? Dad says it might be ready the week after next.”

Judith leaned on her hoe, watching Robbie, a fair, slender figure, squatting on his heels and diligently planting lettuces in meticulously straight rows. “I’d love to stay,” she said, “but holidays don’t last for ever. I have to go home at the end of next week.”

“That’s a pity. Seems as though you’ve only just come.”

“Thank you, Robbie. That was a compliment.”

He glanced up and grinned at her. They heard Barbara’s voice calling them to come in and wash before the evening meal.

Judith dusted earth off the hoe. “Have I done the job properly?”

Robbie inspected the work, his head on one side. “Not really. Still, it’ll do for this week.”

They laughed together and she ruffled his hair. “You’re a hard boss. Come on, let’s go in. You’ve done a good afternoon’s work today.” She thrust her arm casually around his shoulders and was rewarded by a sweet look of perfect understanding.

“It wasn’t Sue’s fault. She’s usually pretty careful where she treads. She just tripped.”

“Good job you were handy.” She gave him a friendly push towards the scullery sink.

Judith offered next morning to go down to the ferry and collect any letters or parcels.

“Thank you, dear, but don’t bring anything heavy,” Barbara warned her. “It’s a little out of your way, but if you could call at Mrs. Drummond’s and ask her if she wants anything? Mairi brings most goods for her, but we usually offer.”

Judith realised that in an island community, close-knit by its own remoteness, good neighbourliness was more than ever a virtue, but she would have preferred to escape Mrs. Drummond’s eager questions.

Mairi’s mother was working in her small, neat front garden. “Isn’t Garranmure a beautiful house?” she said to Judith. “And such lovely furnishings. What did you think of old Mrs. Huntly?”

“Charming. Just the kind of gracious old lady I’d like to be when I’m her age, but I haven’t any hopes of that.”

“And Fiona?”

Judith gave a small sigh. “She’s one of the loveliest girls I’ve ever seen. In London she’d be a sensation.”

“Oh, aye, I’ve been saying this long while that she’s wasting herself here. She’s talented, too. Plays the violin like an angel, according to folk who can judge these things.”

Judith nodded, but remained silent. It was not for her, a casual visitor, to criticise Fiona for lack of ambition or for refusing to leave the home where she considered, she belonged.

“I thought when she came back from school in Switzerland,” Mrs. Drummond continued, “she’d go where there was more life. Can you imagine a pretty young girl like her wanting to stay in Cruban?”

“She’ll probably make up her mind sooner or later what she wants to do.”

Mrs. Drummond looked across the Sound towards the Huntlys’ house. “Oh, well, it’s no use trying to push young people in ways they don’t want to go. I can’t even make Mairi see sense over Neil. She thinks he’s a little tin god and nobody like him.”

“Perhaps she’s sorry for him because he’s had some sort of bad luck.” Judith probably sounded more consoling than she had intended.

Mrs. Drummond’s hopeful gaze swung round towards the girl. “D’you think that could be so? Maybe you’re right. But I’m wasting your time, my dear. It’s very good of you to call. There may be a letter or two and perhaps a small parcel of wool I ordered in Cruban.”

“I’ll bring whatever there is,” Judith promised. Stuart’s name had never been mentioned in the brief conversation, but it was obvious how much Mrs. Drummond had set her heart on a match between her daughter and Stuart. All other distractions—Fiona, Neil—were interlopers, diverting Mairi and Stuart from their true destiny.

Neil was at the. slipway, talking to Fraser, the ferryman, and after Judith had collected the letters from the ferry house, where the front room was the post-office, she went down to ask about the parcels.

“I have the tractor here,” Neil told her, “and I’ll take the parcels up to your place.”

“Anything for Mrs. Drummond? I promised I’d take hers.”

Mr. Fraser found two small packages.

“I can take those as well,” Neil offered. “I might as well make the round trip.”

“Not if it’s out of your way,” Judith said quickly. “I can easily walk back.”

“Or, I can offer you a bone-dislocating ride on the tractor. Perhaps, after London streets, you’re not inclined to risk it.”

She smiled politely. “I’m not as soft as you’re trying to make Mr. Fraser believe. I’ll certainly ride back on the tractor.”

But it was a mistake. Wedged and cramped, she was glad when they reached the Drummonds’ cottage and delivered the letters and parcels—but a little less pleased to discover a large oil-stain on her pleated skirt.

“Will you come in for a wee while?” Mrs. Drummond invited, but Neil politely refused, saying he had to deliver supplies at several other crofts.

“It’s a grand morning to be out enjoying yourselves together, the pair of you,” she continued. “Aye, and it’s good fortune that a bonnie girl like Judith is staying with her sister.”

Good heavens, thought Judith. Don’t let her start her matchmaking tactics on me! But the next instant she laughed to herself. Not even Mrs. Drummond could hope to arrange matrimonial affairs in the few days that remained of Judith’s holiday.

She sighed gustily, deciding that she was making too much of what must appear as trivialities to people who were forced to live simply, even roughly, on the island. She was beginning to see Barbara’s point of view. Kylsaig demanded a way of life that involved many changes of one’s former attitudes.

Neil stayed to lunch, asked about Susan and added his tribute, discreetly in Robbie’s absence, to the boy’s courage. When he was on the point of leaving, he said to Judith, “Would you—that is—there’s an evening of Highland games in Cruban tomorrow. Care to come?”

Judith hesitated. "Well, I don’t know whether it fits in with Barbara’s plans, but—”

“It’s quite interesting. Pipe bands and tossing the caber and all that.”

“All right. Thank you for asking me. I’ll come. What time?”

He started the tractor with a roar and above the noise she heard him yell, “I’ll tell Mairi to expect you at the ferry about half-past seven.”

She stood still, watching him manoeuvre the tractor out of the yard and on to the path towards the shore. What a fool she had been to believe that he was inviting her out for an evening’s entertainment! Now she had let herself in to play the intrusive third party, and Mairi would certainly be annoyed.

She worked on her oil-stained skirt until a voice enquired “Busy?”

She glanced up sharply into Stuart’s face. “Oh, hello.”

“Here, let me do that.” He took the rags and cottonwool out of her hand and applied firmer pressure than she could manage, to push the stain through to a towel underneath.

As he worked, he asked about Susan, and Judith gave him all the details she knew.

“Robbie’s a bright lad,” Stuart commented. “His father should be proud of him.” He slid the skirt off the board between two packing-cases and held it for her to take. “There! That’s the best we can do for the moment.”

“Thank you for helping.”

“Anything else in the establishment that you want dry-cleaned, washed or scrubbed?”

She laughed. “You’d better not let Barbara hear you or she’ll keep you busy.”

“Then how about coming with me down to the shore? McKinnon promised to do some haulage for me with his tractor today, if he had time.”

“Mr. McKinnon?” She thought guiltily of all the time his tractor had stood idle while Neil stayed to lunch. “Was he wanting it this afternoon?”

“Yes. Is somebody else using it?”

“Well—” Judith turned her face away. “It was used this morning to bring stores from the ferry.”

Stuart’s mouth tightened and he frowned. “Raeburn, I suppose. Of course he has to commandeer the tractor just when I’d won McKinnon round to helping me.”

“But Mr. McKinnon will have the tractor soon. Neil— Mr. Raeburn—was going there when he left here.” Stuart leaned against the outhouse door. “What’s the use? In the end I shall have to bring over one of my own tractors if I want the job done. If I don’t soon get some of those stones hauled up and cemented into position, the summer will be over and nothing will be done until next year. By that time half the stones will be embedded in the mud and impossible to move.”

Stuart smiled at her. “But let’s leave my problems for today. I forgot to ask you yesterday in all the excitement about Susan if you’d come with me tomorrow to the Highland games. They’re being held in a park on the outskirts of Cruban.”

Judith caught her breath in a slight gasp. If Neil were taking Mairi, surely she might be justified in accepting Stuart’s invitation instead. But her delay in answering gave him more than a clue.

“Oh, I see. Raeburn’s forestalled me once again, has he?”

“Yes. He asked me, but—”

“All right. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the evening if you go with him.” He was halfway across the yard, then turned. “Tell Barbara I came to ask about Susan. I’m going down to get McKinnon’s tractor.”

She turned away and went slowly indoors.

“Was that Stuart who was here?” Barbara asked her. “Has he gone?”

“Yes. He asked about Susan and—”

“I’m sorry I didn’t catch him before he shot off. I’d have told him what I thought of him! All these stupid rebuilding schemes of his! Susan might have been drowned yesterday.”

Judith was amazed at her sister’s irritable outburst. “But how could you blame Stuart?”

“Of course I blame him! He’s had a great load of boulders and stones dumped there.”

“But Susan might have fallen anywhere and cut her head,” Judith protested.

Barbara sat down, planted her elbows on the kitchen table and rested her head on her hands. “Oh, I suppose I’m being unreasonable, but all these things wouldn’t happen if we lived in a more civilised place.”

“No, Barbara, all you’d have to worry about would be traffic dangers and whether the children could keep out of the way of cars,” Judith said quietly.

Barbara glanced up sharply, then smiled. “Yes, I’m sorry I flared out like that. Forgive me. I’m nervy, and the least thing upsets me.”

“Of course, darling.” Judith bent swiftly to kiss her sister. “I do understand.”

“You didn’t tell me you’d already met Graham Mundon,” Barbara said presently.

“Mairi took me to the Roxburgh Hotel for lunch. I told you that. Then he came along and spoke to us, and Mairi introduced me.” Judith chuckled. “He gave us a free lunch. Then he said he hoped you and Andy would take me to dinner there one night. So I thought if I told you, you’d feel under a kind of obligation.”

“We’d never think that about Graham.” Barbara stood up and filled a kettle. “Judith, why don’t you stay with us—all the summer?”

“Stay with you? But I have to go back next week.” Barbara turned. “You could stay here for three months, then get another job in the autumn.”

“But I couldn’t impose on you like that and be idle at your expense.”

“Graham would soon find you a job here. Judith, think about it please. You’d be such good company for me. I need you—to give me back my sense of proportion. Sometimes I feel so desperate.” She closed her eyes momentarily. “I darn’t think of the future. Judy, why don’t you stay?”