y and be very, very kind to me,
for--everybody's sake?"

"Of course," said I. "But you must call me Barrie."

"Thank you! That's one step. Will you call me Basil?"

"If you like," I answered. "Basil and Barrie! Don't they sound nice
together?"

Just then the others came up and heard what I said, which made me feel
foolish, as they'd missed the first part. But Mrs. West beamed at me. I
had been thinking that Basil Norman was the sort of man I should love to
have for a brother, but Mrs. West as a sister I could _not_ stand!

"Basil and Barrie _look_ nice together too, don't they, Mr. Somerled?"
she remarked.

"Very," said he dryly. And the next thing I knew was that she was
sitting beside him on the front seat, and I was tucked in beside Mrs.
James, with Basil Norman opposite. Their motor, it seemed, was not
behaving well, and Aline was nervous, so Sir S. had suggested, as we
were all going on to Ayr, that they should come with us for the rest of
the day.

I felt rather dazed about everything, and I'm afraid made a hash of the
scenery in my mind, until I had calmed down. I remember that we swept
through Kirkcudbright, which was named for St. Cuthbert because his
bones were once in the church. They were taking them on somewhere else,
but I don't know why. Basil told us all about it; but it sounded so odd
to hear him talking instructively of saints and Covenanters and martyrs,
and "the torch of religion being first lighted in Galloway," after he
had been begging me in a very different voice to "be nice to him," that
it muddled up my intelligence. I liked the town because it was pretty,
with graceful spires and lovely, ivied ruins; but I didn't care much
about the saints, or even about the last Lord Selkirk, for whom they put
up a Celtic cross in the Kirkcudbright market place; and I couldn't be
bothered pronouncing Kirkcudbright correctly. Of course it's done in the
last way you think it possibly could be, like all other Scottish names!
I brightened up a little at the story of Paul Jones at St. Mary's Isle,
because pirates are always nice, and he was classic. Besides, it was
amusing of him to fail to kidnap Lord Selkirk and steal a silver teapot
instead. To please Benjamin Franklin he gave the teapot back, so he
didn't get much out of that adventure!

I remember too that there were hills on the way to Gatehouse of Fleet,
hills which turned their backs and reared on their hind legs as we saw
them in the distance; b