So of him
chiefly they sought counsel and direction--so much so that old Diarmid,
quick to notice what made for the good of his farm, caused Rob Dickson
to act as a kind of "grieve" during the time of harvest, when the land
was overrun with "Islanders," "Paddies" and "Paipes"--for the religious
hatred, though never crossing the North Channel, has yet made of the
Irish Catholic in Wigtonshire a hewer of wood and a drawer of water to
his Presbyterian masters.

Few things Adam Ferris liked better than a look at the Court of the
Lions during feeding time, when Rob Dickson rose in his place to salute
him and the Young Lions bent lower over their wooden platters, "eating
away like murther" lest any neighbour should get ahead of them in the
race. When their own proper broth was finished and the flesh sodden in
it had all been distributed, the Young Lions were made free of the
debris of the high table, and never were bones cleaned with greater
dispatch. Scarce did those which were saved for the rough-tailed,
soft-eyed collies, waiting expectant outside, emerge with a higher
polish. The herds had to see to this final distribution themselves, each
feeding his own pair at different corners of the yard, ready to check
growlings which might end in fights with the stern toe of a mountain
boot, very proper to the purpose.

Even oftener than her father, Patsy came to Glenanmays. It was good to
get away from the dear but dull house of Cairn Ferris, the schooled and
disciplined servants, the gentle but constant and masterful supervision
of her old nurse, Annie McQuilliam.

She loved her home. She loved all who were in it. But there was no one
of her own age at Cairn Ferris, and here at Glenanmays she could dip
deep in the fountain of youth. Of the four girls, Faith and Elspeth were
her seniors, and she looked up to them, sitting at their feet and
keeping her secrets as carefully from them as she would have done from
her own father.

But the third, Jean, a tall slight girl with head coiled about by
swathes of fair hair, was year for year, month for month, Patsy's own
age. And neither had any secrets from the other. Hopes, fears,
anticipations were exchanged, but cautiously and in whispers, like young
bathers who test the chill of the sea with bent, temerarious toes. So
they touched and paused, shivering on the brink of the incoming tide of
life.

Menie Garland, the youngest of all, was then a slim girl still at
Stranryan Grammar Sc