it is when
people improve by knowing--so few do. I see the Jardines once every day,
sometimes oftener, and I like them more every time I see them.

"I've been thinking, Biddy, you and I haven't had a vast number of
people to be fond of. There was Aunt Eleanor, but I defy anyone to be
fond of her. Respect her one might, fear her we did, but love her--it
would have been as discouraging as petting a steam road-roller. We
hadn't even a motherly old nurse, for Aunt Eleanor liked machine-made
people like herself to serve her. I don't think it did you much harm,
you were such a sunny-tempered, affectionate little boy, but it made me
rather inhuman.

"As we grew up we acquired crowds of friends and acquaintances, but they
were never like real home-people to whom you show both your best and
your worst side, and who love you simply because you are you. The
Jardines give me that homey feeling.

"The funny thing is I thought I was going to broaden Jean, to show her
what a narrow little Puritan she is, bound in the Old Testament thrall
of her Great-aunt Alison--but not a bit of it. She is very receptive,
delighted to be told about people and clothes, cities, theatres,
pictures, but on what she calls 'serious things' she is an absolute
rock. It is like finding a Roundhead delighting in Royalist sports and
plays, or a Royalist chanting Roundhead psalms--if you can imagine an
evangelical Royalist. Anyway, it is rather a fine combination.

"I only wish I could help to make things easier for Jean. I have far
more money than I want; she has so little. I'm afraid she has to plan
and worry a good deal how to clothe and feed and educate those boys. I
know that she is very anxious that David should not be too scrimped for
money at Oxford, and consequently spends almost nothing on herself. A
warm coat for Jock; no evening gown for Jean. David finds that he must
buy certain books and writes home in distress. 'That can easily be
managed,' says Jean, and goes without a new winter hat. She and Mrs.
M'Cosh are wonders of economy in housekeeping, and there is always
abundance of plain, well-cooked food.

"I told you about Mrs. M'Cosh? She is the Jardines' one servant--an
elderly woman, a widow from Glasgow. I like her way of showing in
visitors. She was a pew-opener in a church at one time, which may
account for it. When you ask if Jean is in, she puts her head on one
side in a considering way and says, 'I'm no' juist sure,' and ambles
away,