ill and I think he is poor, so I asked him
to come and stay with us for a week."

"My dear child, do you invite every stranger to stay with you if you
think he is poor?"

"Of course not. But he looked so lonely and lost somehow, and he doesn't
seem to have anyone belonging to him, and I was sorry for him."

"And so you gave him that song-book you value so much?"

"Yes," said Jean, looking rather ashamed. "But," she brightened, "he
seemed pleased, don't you think? It's a pretty song, 'Strathairlie,' but
it's not a _pukka_ old one--it's early Victorian."

"Miss Jean, it's a marvel to me that you have anything left belonging to
you."

"Don't call me Miss Jean!"

"Jean, then; but you must call me Pamela."

"Oh, but wouldn't that be rather familiar? You see, you are so--so--"

"Stricken in years," Pamela supplied.

"No--but--well, you are rather impressive, you know. It would be like
calling Miss Bathgate 'Bella' to her face. However--Pamela--"

CHAPTER VI

"For 'tis a chronicle of day by day."

_The Tempest_.

About this time Jean wrote a letter to David at Oxford. It is wonderful
how much news there is when people write every other day; if they wait
for a month there is nothing that seems worth telling.

Jean wrote:

" ... You have been away now for four days, and we still miss you badly.
Nobody sits in your place at the table, and it gives us such a horrid
bereaved feeling when we look at it. Mhor was waiting at the gate for
the post yesterday and brought your letter in in triumph. He was
particularly interested in hearing about your scout, and has added his
name to the list he prays for. You will be glad to hear that he has got
over his prejudice against going to heaven. It seems it was because
someone told him that dogs couldn't go there, and he wouldn't desert
Micawber--Peter, in other words. Jock has put it right by telling him
that the translators of the Bible probably made a slip, and Mhor now
prays earnestly every night: 'Let everyone in The Rigs go to heaven,'
hoping thus to smuggle in his dear companion.

"It is an extraordinary thing, but almost the very minute you left
Priorsford things began to happen.

"I told you in the note I wrote the day you left that Bella Bathgate's
lodger had arrived and that I had seen her, but I didn't realise then
what a difference her coming would make to us. I never knew such a
friendly person; she comes in at any sort of time--after breakfast,