It turned out that Lord Bidborough also delighted in trains, and he not only stood patiently on the bridge watching goods-trains shunting up and down, but he made friends with the porters, and took Mhor into prohibited areas such as signal-boxes and goods sheds, and showed him how signals were worked, and ran him up and down on trolleys.

One never-to-be-forgotten day a sympathetic engine-driver lifted Mhor into the engine and, holding him up high above the furnace, told him to pull a chain, whereupon the engine gave an anguished hoot.  Mhor had no words to express his pleasure, but in an ecstasy of gratitude he seized the engine-driver’s grimy hand and kissed it, leaving that honest man, who was not accustomed to such ongoings considerably confused.

Jock did not share Mhor’s interest in “base mechanic happenings”; his passion was for the world at large, his motto, “For to admire and for to see.”  He had long made up his mind that he must follow some profession that would take him to far places.  Mrs. Hope suggested the Indian Army, while Mr. Jowett loyally recommended the Indian Civil Service, though he felt bound in duty to warn Jock that it wasn’t what it was in his young days, and was indeed hardly fit now for a white man.

Jock felt that Mrs. Hope and Mr. Jowett were wise and experienced, but they were old.  In Lord Bidborough he found one who had come hot foot from the ends of the earth.  He had seen with his own eyes, and he could tell Jock tales that made the coveted far lands live before him; and Jock fell down and worshipped.

Through the day, while the two boys were interned in school, Pamela took her brother the long walks over the hills that had delighted her days in Priorsford.  Jean sometimes went with them, but more often she stayed at home.  It was her mission in life, she said, to stay at home and have meals ready for people when they returned, and it was much better that the brother and sister should have their walks alone, she told herself.  Excessive selfconfidence was not one of Jean’s faults.  She was much afraid of boring people by her presence, and shrank from being the third that constitutes “a crowd.”

One afternoon Lewis Elliot called at The Rigs.

“Sitting alone, Jean?  Well, it’s nice to find you in.  I thought you would be out with your new friends.”

“Lord Bidborough has motored Pamela down Tweed to see some people,” Jean explained.  “They asked me to go with them, but I thought I might perhaps be in the way.  Lord Bidborough is frightfully pleased to be able to hire a motor to drive.  On Saturday he has promised to take the boys to Dryburgh and to the Eildon Hills.  Mhor is very keen to see for himself where King Arthur is buried, and make a search for the horn!”

“I see.  It’s a pity it isn’t a better time of year.  December days are short for excursions....  Isn’t Biddy a delightful fellow?”

“Yes.  Jock and Mhor worship him.  One word from him is more to them than all the wisdom I’m capable of.  It isn’t quite fair.  After all, I’ve had them so long, and they’ve only known him for a day or two.  No, I don’t think I’m jealous.  I’m—­I’m hurt!” and to Lewis Elliot’s great discomfort Jean took out her handkerchief and openly wiped her eyes, and then, putting her head on the table, cried.