question was too much for Mrs. M'Cosh.

"Na," she said bitterly. "Peter's no' in, so ye needna hold on to the
door. Peter's lost. Deid, as likely as not." She turned away in
bitterness of heart, leaving Jean to take the parcels from the boy.

The boys came in quietly after another fruitless search. They did not
ask hopefully, as they had done at first, if Peter had come home, and
Jean did not ask how they had fared.

The sight of Pamela cheered them a good deal.

"Does she know?" Jock asked, and Jean nodded.

Pamela kept the talk going through tea, and told them so many funny
stories that they had to laugh.

"If only," said Mhor, "Peter was here now the Honourable's back we
would be happy."

"There's a big box of hard chocolates behind that cushion," Pamela said,
pointing to the sofa.

It was at that moment that the door opened, and Mrs. M'Cosh put her head
in. Her face wore a broad smile.

"The wanderer has returned," she said.

At that moment Jean thought the Glasgow accent the most delightful thing
on earth and the smile on Mrs. M'Cosh's face the most beautiful. With a
shout they all made for the kitchen.

There was Peter, thin and dirty, but in excellent spirits, wagging his
tail so violently that his whole body wagged.

"See," said Mrs. M'Cosh, "he's been in a trap, but he's gotten out.
Peter's a cliver lad."

Jock and Mhor had no words. They lay on the linoleum-covered floor while
Mrs. M'Cosh fetched hot milk, and crushed their faces against the little
black-and-white body they had thought they might never see again, while
Peter licked his own torn paw and their faces in turn.

* * * * *

It was wonderfully comfortable to see Pamela settle down in the corner
of the sofa with her embroidery and ask news of all her friends. Jean
had been a little shy of meeting Pamela, wondering if Lord Bidborough
had told her anything, wondering if she were angry that Jean should have
had such an offer, or resentful that she had refused it. But Pamela
talked quite naturally about her brother, and gave no hint that she
knew of any reason why Jean should blush when his name was mentioned.

"And how are all the people--the Jowetts and the Watsons and the
Dawsons? And the dear Macdonalds? I picked up a book in Edinburgh that I
think Mr. Macdonald will like. And Lewis Elliot--have you seen him
lately, Jean?"

"He's away. Didn't you know? He went just after you did. He was in
London at