very near to it once,
though, and that's what I want to tell you about. Uncle Gordon was going
to London, and, the day before he started, Auntie was sitting alone in
the garden. She hadn't been very well, so she was just leaning back in a
deck-chair resting. She wasn't asleep; she was looking at the view and
thinking how lovely it all was. She could see right across the moor and
down the valley where the river ran; the heather was in blossom and it
was a glorious sight. Suddenly it seemed as if everything became blurred
and dark, as if a mist were before her eyes. A patch cleared through the
midst of this and she could see the valley below as if she were looking
through an enormous telescope. The river had burst its banks, and was
flowing all over the line, and through the flood came the train, and
dashed into the water. She saw this vision only for a moment, then it
passed. She rubbed her eyes and wondered if it was a dream. She decided
it was a warning. She's very superstitious. Most Highland people are.
She didn't want Uncle Gordon to go next day by the little train that ran
down the valley, but she knew if she told him her 'vision' he would only
laugh at her. So she pretended she wanted to do some shopping at
Aberfylde, a town fifteen miles away, where the local railway joins the
main line. She told Uncle Gordon that if they motored there together she
could see him off on the London express, and then have a day's shopping.
So he agreed, and they went in the car. There was a tremendous storm in
the night, and it was still raining when they started. Auntie spent the
day in Aberfylde and motored back, and when she reached home she noticed
the valley had turned into a lake. The terrific rain had swollen all the
streams and made the river burst its banks, and the line was flooded,
and it was impossible for the train to run. So her 'vision' really did
come true after all. She's ever so proud of it, and wrote it all down so
that she shouldn't forget it. That's my story. Now it's somebody else's
stunt. Let's count out again."

Fortune cast the lot this time on Agnes, who wrinkled up her forehead
and protested she didn't know anything to tell, but, when urged,
remembered something she had heard during the summer holidays.

"It's true too!" she assured them. "We were staying at Tarana. We had
a villa there. Water was very scarce, and we used to have two barrels of
it brought every day on donkeyback by a woman whose business