The day passed very pleasantly:  the luncheon at the Jowetts’ was everything a Christmas meal should be, Mrs. M’Cosh surpassed herself with bakemeats for the tea, the presents gave lively satisfaction, but the feature of the day was the box that arrived from Pamela and her brother.  It was waiting when the family came back from the Jowetts’, standing in the middle of the little hall with a hammer and a screw-driver laid on the top by thoughtful Mrs. M’Cosh—­a large white wooden box which thrilled one with its air of containing treasures.  Mhor sank down beside it, hardly able to wait until David had taken off his coat and was ready to tackle it.  Off came the lid, out came the packing paper on the top, and in Jock and Mhor dived.

It was really a wonderful box.  In it there was something for everybody, including Mrs. M’Cosh and Peter, but Mhor’s was the most striking present.  No wonder the box was large.  It contained a whole railway—­a train, lines, signal-boxes, a station, even a tunnel.

Mhor was rendered speechless with delight.  Jean wished Pamela had been there to see the lamps lit in his green eyes.  Mrs. M’Cosh’s beautiful tea was lost on him:  he ate and drank without being aware of it, his eyes feasting all the time on this great new treasure.

“I wish,” he said at last, “that I could do something for the Honourable and Richard Plantagenet.  I only sent her a wee poetry-book.  It cost a shilling.  It was Jean’s shilling really, for I hadn’t anything left, and I wrote in it, ‘Wishing you a pretty New Year.’  I forgot about ‘happy’ being the word; d’you think she’ll mind?”

“I think Pamela will prefer it called ‘pretty,’” Jean said.  “You are lucky, aren’t you?—­and so is Jock with that gorgeous knife.”

“It’s an explorer’s knife,” said Jock.  “You see, you can do almost everything with it.  If I was wrecked on a desert island I could pretty nearly build a house with it.  Feel the blades—­”

“Oh, do be careful.  I would put away the presents in the meantime and get everything ready for the charade.  Are you quite sure you know what you’re going to do?  You mustn’t just stand and giggle.”

Jean had asked three guests to come to supper—­three lonely women who otherwise would have spent a solitary evening—­and Mrs. M’Cosh had asked Bella Bathgate to sup with her and afterwards to witness what she dubbed “a chiraide.”

The living-room had been made ready for the entertainment, all the chairs placed in rows, the deep window-seat doing duty for a stage, but Jean was very doubtful about the powers of the actors, and hoped that the audience would be both easily amused and long-suffering.

Jock and Mhor protested that they had chosen a word for the charade, and knew exactly what they meant to say, but they would divulge no details, advising Jean to wait patiently, for something very good was coming.