Martin watched him from a respectful distance. He saw Trevelyan crush the paper suddenly in his hand and turn sharply on his heel, and go into the library and close the door. "I thought that there would stir Master Robert up," he muttered. "Law! that was awful fine, an’ won’t Betty stare an’ hollow!"
An hour later the family assembled in the breakfast room.
"Where is Robert?" asked Mrs. Stewart, sitting down.
"His room’s empty. Must be taking a walk. What has become of the morning paper?"
Trevelyan appeared suddenly in the doorway. He held the paper in his hand, and his face was as white as the sheet. His uncle rose hastily.
"_Matter?_" Trevelyan’s voice rang out excitedly. "Read that!"
Half a dozen hands reached out for the paper. Trevelyan snatched it hungrily back.
"Let me read it to you! It’s the Gordon Highlanders." Trevelyan’s words stumbled over each other. "They’ve assaulted the Dargai Hill! The Gurkhas, Dorsets and Derbys couldn’t take it! Then General Kempster ordered the Gordon Highlanders and the Third Sikhs to reinforce the fighting line. The pipers played the ’Cock of the North,’ and then the mixed troops—the Highlanders and the Dorsets and Gurkhas and Derbys and Sikhs swept across! God! Look at the list of the dead!"
Trevelyan tossed the paper to John and turned away and leaned against the sideboard, his elbows on it, his head in his hands.
Young Stewart caught the paper and sat down at the table and spread it out in front of him with nervous fingers, and began to read, the rest gathering around him. The Highlanders of Aberdeen!
The breakfast stood untouched, growing colder every minute, but no one thought of it.
Young Stewart’s voice got husky now and then, and when he was half way through the sheet, he pushed it over to Cameron and rose.
"I guess you’d better finish it," he said.
It was hard to forget that if it had not been for that India transfer, he would have been with the Highlanders!
Trevelyan came forward suddenly, and leaned over Cary’s chair.
"Isn’t it splendid," he said. "That’s the way we Scotch fight—" he broke off abruptly, recoiling before the consciousness that he had not fought so.
"It’s grand," cried the American girl, her breath coming quickly.