day, every single day...." His voice
trailed away into silence as he contemplated this blissful vision, and
Jock, wooed from his Greek verbs by the interest of the game, burst in
with his unmanageable voice:

"Suppose a Russian man-of-war came up Tweed and started shelling
Priorsford, and the parish church was hit and the steeple fell into
Thomson's shop and scattered the haddocks and kippers and things all
over the street, and----"

"Did you pick them up, Jock?" squealed Mhor, who regarded Jock as the
greatest living humorist, and now at the thought of the scattered
kippers wallowed on the floor with laughter.

Jock continued: "And another shell blew the turrety thing off The Towers
and blew Mrs. Duff-Whalley right over the West Law and landed her in
Caddon Burn----"

"Hurray!" yelled Mhor.

Jock was preparing for a further flight of fancy, when Mrs. M'Cosh,
having finished washing the dishes, came in to say that Thomson had
never sent the sausages for Mr. David's breakfast, and she could not
see him depart for England unfortified by sausages and poached eggs.

"I'll just slip down and get them," she announced, being by no means
averse to a stroll along the lighted Highgate. It was certainly neither
Argyle Street nor the Paisley Road, but it bore a far-off resemblance to
those gay places, and for that Mrs. M'Cosh was thankful. There was a
cinema, too, and that was a touch of home. Talking over Priorsford with
Glasgow friends she would say, "It's no' juist whit I wud ca' the deid
country--no juist paraffin-ile and glaury roads, ye ken. We hev gas an'
plain-stanes an' a pictur hoose."

When Mrs. M'Cosh left the room Jock returned to his books, and the Mhor,
his imagination fermenting with the thought of bombs on Priorsford,
retired to the window-seat to think out further damage.

* * * * *

Some hours later, when Jock and Mhor were fast asleep and David, his
packing finished, was preparing to go to bed, Jean slipped into the
room.

She stood looking at the open trunk on the floor, at the shelves from
which the books had been taken, at the empty boot cupboard.

Two large tears rolled over her face, but she managed to say quite
gaily, "December will soon be here."

"In no time at all," said David.

Jean was carrying a little book, which she now laid on the
dressing-table, and, giving it a push in her brother's direction, "It's
a _Daily Light_," she explained.

David did no