nearly
all the photographs in picture papers of desperately rich people are one
or the other, or both. At last I began to be nervous, for if Sir S. or
Mrs. James (who was close by) should speak before I'd given my wish to
the new moon, she'd be unable to grant it, even with the best
intentions. That is a well-known fact in connection with wishing by the
moon. I have it on the authority of both Mrs. Muir and Heppie. Being in
a hurry, I grew confused, and so could think of nothing more important
than to wish for my knight never to forget me in future, wherever he may
be. And just as I'd finished, he said, "Well? What did you wish?"

Of course I couldn't tell him such a wish as that; but, luckily, you
must never let anybody know what you've wished by a moon or a star, if
you want the wish to come true.

I explained this to Sir S., and he said, as far as he was concerned, it
didn't matter, for he hadn't wished after all. "Oh, what a waste of the
heather moon!" I cried, for it really seemed too bad. But he answered
that the only thing he particularly wished for just then was a thing
which wasn't fair to wish, on account of the 'other party concerned.' I
laughed, and said if he had _wished_ to wish, he had wished, in spite of
himself, and the heather moon had heard; because that's the business of
any well-trained new moon, and the heather moon is the best-trained of
the year. "'The other party concerned' must just take the risk," I said.
"And very likely 'twill be the best thing for him, her, or it in the
end."

"I daren't hope that," said he, looking up at the silver sickle as
earnestly as if we weren't talking nonsense.

"Don't you think the heather moon knows best?" I reproached him. But he
did not answer, and only hummed under his breath, as we walked to the
waiting car:

"How far, how far to Gretna?
It's years and years away--
And coach-and-four shall nevermore
Fling dust across the day."

All the way along the shadowy, switchback road from Dumfries going to
Sweetheart Abbey (I like to write the name, it is so pretty and
old-fashioned) we had glimpses of the moon scattering silver through the
tree branches as she fell down the west. I thought the soft white curve
like a baby's arm, rounded at the elbow; and it waved us good-night over
the heather-clad mound of Criffel, as a baby might wave over the fat
shoulder of a big nurse dressed in purple. It is _cheek_ of Criffel to
call itself a mount