I believe he would
send her with me, to those friends of Lady Monksburn in the Isle of
Wight. I thought Lady Monksburn looked rather anxious, and wistful too,
when he spoke about it. Annas herself did not seem to care.

"The Lord will not go to the Isle of Wight," she said, quietly.

Oh, if I could feel as they do--that God is everywhere, and that
everywhere He is my Friend! And then, my Uncle Drummond's words come
back upon me. But how do you trust Christ? What have you to do? If
people would make things plain!

Well, it looks as if I should have plenty of time for learning. For it
seems pretty certain, whatever else is doubtful, that I am a fixture at
Abbotscliff.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

I wonder if things always happen just when one has made up one's mind
that they are not going to happen?

About ten o'clock this morning, Flora and I were sewing in the parlour,
just as we have been doing every day since I came here. My Uncle
Drummond was out, and Angus was fixing a white cockade in his bonnet.
Helen Raeburn put in her head at the door.

"If you please, Miss Cary," said she, "my cousin Samuel wad be fain to
speak wi' ye."

For one moment I could not think who she meant. What had I to do with
her cousin Samuel? And then, all at once, it flashed upon me that
Helen's cousin Samuel was our own old Sam.

"Sam!" I almost screamed. "Has he come from Brocklebank? Oh, is
anything wrong at home?"

"There's naething wrang ava, Miss Cary, but a hantle that's richt--only
ane thing belike--and that's our loss mair than yours. But will ye see
Samuel?"

"Oh, yes!" I cried. And Flora bade Helen bring him in.

In marched Sam--the old familiar Sam, though he had put on a flowered
waistcoat and a glossy green tie which made him look rather like a Merry
Andrew.

"Your servant, ladies! Your servant, Maister Angus! I trust all's weel
wi' ye the morn?"

And Sam sighed, as if he felt relieved after that speech.

"Sam, is all well at home? Who sent you?"

"All's weel, Miss Cary, the Lord be thanked. And Mrs Kezia sent me."

"Is my Aunt Kezia gone to her new house? Does she want me to come
back?"

"Thank goodness, na!" said Sam, which at first I thought rather a poor
compliment; but I saw the next minute that it was the answer to my first
question. "Mrs Kezia's gone nowhere. Nor they dinna want ye back at
Brocklebank nae mair. I'm come to ha'e a