[MACPHAIL enters with MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE, he in Highland dress, she wearing a showy costume of tweed tartan with a Scotch bonnet.]
LADY MACPHAIL.
Colin, lad!
MACPHAIL.
Eh, mother?
MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.
Dear Sir Colin gave me his arm to the top of Ben-Auchter.
DOWAGER and LADY MACPHAIL.
To the top of Ben-Auchter!
MACPHAIL.
[With an anxious glance at MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.] Just to see the sun rise.
DOWAGER.
[Quietly to SIR JULIAN.] Julian, that"s scandalous!
LADY MACPHAIL.
I thought you always witnessed the sun rise alone, Colin.
MACPHAIL.
As a rule, mother.
DOWAGER.
[To herself.] That woman has a motive.
LADY MACPHAIL.
[Pointing to IMOGEN.] My son, look--here is Imogen.
MACPHAIL.
[To IMOGEN.] Good-morning.
LADY MACPHAIL.
Colin, lad, don"t you guess?
MACPHAIL.
No, mother.
LADY MACPHAIL.
[Rapturously.] Now let the worn banner of the Macphail be run up on the crumbling tower of Castle Ballocheevin!
MACPHAIL.
[Vacantly.] For what reason, mother?
LADY MACPHAIL.
Now let the shriek of the wild birds sound on the sh.o.r.es of Loch-na-Doich!
MACPHAIL.
Why?
LADY MACPHAIL.
[Embracing MACPHAIL.] Imogen is to be your bride.
MACPHAIL.
[Blankly.] Oh!
[SIR JULIAN, the DOWAGER, and LADY EUPHEMIA congratulate him.]
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Most gratified!
DOWAGER.
I have a mother"s yearnings toward you.
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
We are _too_ rejoiced!
MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.
[To herself.] They"ve hooked him!
LADY MACPHAIL.
[Bringing MACPHAIL down.] Hush! Speak to her, Colin, lad. Let her hear how a Macphail greets the woman of his choice.