e of interest, at a family
tea-table, with Jean, anxiously making tea to his liking, while Mhor
(with a well-soaped, shining face, but a high-water mark of dirt where
the sponge had not reached) sat close beside him, and Jock, the big
schoolboy, shyly handed him scones: and Peter walked among the feet of
the company, waiting for what he could get.

Peter Reid quite shone through the meal. He remembered episodes of his
boyhood, forgotten for forty years, and told them to Jock and Mhor, who
listened with most gratifying interest. He questioned Jock about
Priorsford Grammar School, and recalled stories of the masters who had
taught there in his day.

Jean told him about David going to Oxford, and about Great-aunt Alison
who had "come out at the Disruption"--about her father's life in India,
and about her mother, and he became every minute more human and
interested. He even made one or two small jokes which were received with
great applause by Jock and Mhor, who were grateful to anyone who tried,
however feebly, to be funny. They would have said with Touchstone, "It
is meat and drink to me to see a clown."

Jean watched with delight her rather difficult guest blossom into
affability. "You are looking better already," she told him. "If you
stayed here for a week and rested and Mrs. M'Cosh cooked you light,
nourishing food and Mhor didn't make too much noise, I'm sure you would
feel quite well again. And it does seem such a pity to pay hotel bills
when we want you here."

Hotel bills! Peter Reid looked sharply at her. Did she imagine, this
girl, that hotel bills were of any moment to him? Then he looked down at
his shabby clothes and recalled their conversation and owned that her
mistake was not unjustifiable.

But how extraordinary it was! The instinct that makes people wish to
stand well with the rich and powerful he could understand and commend,
but the instinct that opens wide doors to the shabby and the
unsuccessful was not one that he knew anything about: it was certainly
not an instinct for this world as he knew it.

Just as they were finishing tea Mrs. M'Cosh ushered in Miss Pamela
Reston.

"You did say I might come in when I liked," she said as she greeted
Jean. "I've had tea, thank you. Mhor, you haven't been to see me
to-day."

"I would have been," Mhor assured her, "but Jean said I'd better not. Do
you invite me to come to-morrow?"

"I do."

"There, Jean," said Mhor. "You can't _un_-vite me after tha