lives, in houses where all the
difficulties of life are kept in oblivion, and existence runs on
well-oiled wheels is very pleasant, doubtless, but one misses a lot. I
love the _nearness_ of Hillview, to hear Mawson and B.B. converse in the
kitchen, to smell (this is the most comfortable and homely smell) the
ironing of clean clothes, and to know (also by the sense of smell) what
I am going to have for dinner hours before it comes.

"Of course you will say, and probably with truth, that what I enjoy is
the _newness_ of it, that if I knew that my life would be spent in such
surroundings I would be profoundly dissatisfied.

"I dare say. But in the meantime I am happy--happy in a contented, quiet
way that I never knew before.

"It is strange that our old friend Lewis Elliot is living near
Priorsford, at a place called Laverlaw, about five miles up Tweed from
here. Do you remember what good times we used to have with him when he
came to stay with the Greys? That must be more than twenty years
ago--you were a little boy and I was a wild colt of a girl. I don't
think you have ever seen much of him since, but I saw a lot of him in
London when I first came out. Then he vanished. Some years ago his uncle
died and he inherited Laverlaw. He came to see me the other day, not a
bit changed, the same dreamy, unambitious creature--rather an angel. I
sometimes wonder if little Jean will one day go to Laverlaw. It would be
very nice and fairy-tale-ish!"

CHAPTER X

"You that are old," Falstaff reminds the Chief Justice, "consider
not the capacities of us that are young."

One afternoon Jean called for Pamela to take her to see Mrs. Hope.

It was a clear, blue-and-white day, with clouds scudding across the sky,
and a cold, whistling wind that blew the fallen leaves along the dry
roads--a day that made people walk smartly and gave the children
apple-red cheeks and tangled curls.

Mhor and Peter were seated on The Rigs garden wall as Pamela and Jean
came out of Hillview gate. Peter wagged his tail in recognition, but
Mhor made no sign of having seen his sister and her friend.

"Aren't you cold up there?" Pamela asked him.

"Very cold," said Mhor, "but we can't come down. We're on sentry duty on
the city wall till sundown," and he shaded his eyes with his hand and
pretended to peer into space for lurking foes.

Peter looked wistfully up at him and hunched himself against the
scratched bare knees now blue with co