young, as the bright water leaps on forever to give its jewels to
the sea.

We went back from Alloway to Ayr, and lunched early in our own hotel.
The boys lunched early too, and when we started out on the next stage of
our Burns pilgrimage, we saw their red car panting in front of the
hotel. I had heard no talk of new plans for Basil and Mrs. West, but
they must have talked things over with each other or Sir S., for
Blunderbore was vibrating healthily between the Gray Dragon and the Red
Prince. I could have jumped for joy when I saw Blunderbore, and kissed
him on his bonnet. Already in imagination I was in my old place on the
front seat of our car, beside my knight; but the first words of Sir S.
snatched me off again and left me dangling in mid-air.

"Sure your motor's all right again?" he inquired of Basil.

I held my breath for the answer.

"Yes, thanks, quite all right."

"You know"--and Sir S. turned to Mrs. West--"we're delighted to keep you
as our guests."

"You _are_ good," she answered, "but--we mustn't wear out our welcome."

"Don't be afraid of that." (I did so wish I could have been sure whether
his tone was eager or only cordial! Probably Mrs. West was wishing the
same.)

"Thanks a thousand times, but we'll sample our own car for a while. We
shall meet and exchange impressions. And perhaps--after Edinburgh----"

She broke off, leaving the rest to our imagination. Mine was so lively
that it gave my heart a pinch. I could see what she meant as clearly as
if she had held a photograph before my eyes: me, with mother, waving
good-byes from a hotel door; she and her brother transferred permanently
to the Gray Dragon, the Row forgotten; Blunderbore's nose turned meekly
back toward Carlisle; Mrs. James out of the picture. Just for an instant
I could have cried. Then I reminded myself for the twentieth time that
in a few days _nothing_ can matter, because I shall have my own dear,
beautiful mother, who will make up to me for everybody and everything
else.

I don't know how I should have borne it if Mrs. James had wanted to sit
in front, but the angel didn't. And presently there was I in my old
place, feeling as if weeks instead of hours had elapsed (yes "elapsed"
is the most distance-expressing word) since I last sat shoulder to
shoulder with Sir S.

That feeling of long-ago-ness made me a little shy, and to save my life
I couldn't think of a word to say except about the weather; so I said
nothing at a