Chapter Eight: Romance of Aunt Maggie

“My heart’s in the Highland, wherever I go”, quoted Louisa while stepping up the way from Lochdhu. She had been in the mansion; the wife of the parson, a middle-aged, childless woman, used to ask Sunday school pupils for a dinner one at time, and now it had been Louisa’s turn.

They had had a marvellous time. The meal had been delicious, and after that the parson himself went to his workroom and Mrs Reed asked Louisa to the parlour. There she had showed her some old dguerrotypias about her childhood family, and those serious-faced girls and boys and women with old-fashioned wide dresses and gentlemen with wide beards had amused Louisa a lot. She was also allowed to borrow some Sunday school magazines, for Mrs Reed knew her reputation as a reader and a teller; those treasures were now in her little basket, in which she had taken over a piece of Aunt Maggie’s nut cake. Laura had said it was unpolite to visit the mansion without anything to give.

“Oh, what a day!” sighed Louisa, because she had a ridiculous way to speak aloud by herself, if there was no company for discussion. “And what an evening it will be — I go to the orchard under the cherry trees and read all those magazines over. I must read them very carefully so I can tell the stories to the others. Oh”, she stopped at the gate of Five Cherry Trees, “a motor car!”

Indeed, a real motor car, a black, gleaming, fancy one was before the front door. Nobody in Lochdhu had a motor car; Louisa had seen one only in Glennari when the doctor of the town had once passed her, when she was shopping with Mommy.

The girl shut the gate behind her. Who an earth it was? Well, luckily she wore her best summer muslin dress and a new apron with frills — a guest with a motor car could not be met in any clothes. She walked slowly through the yard though would have liked to rush inside, but now it was important to behave.

The parlour door was closed, but Laura sat in the dining-room and sewed a new dress for little Amy MacGregor.

“Who is it, Mommy?” gasped Louisa.

“Had you nice time in the mansion, dear? I see you have Sunday school magazines. Be careful with them, Mrs Reed doesn’t want any dirty fingerprints on the pages”, said Laura friendly.

“Mommy!”

Mother laughed.

“Sorry, dear. It’s an old friend of your Aunt Maggie.”

“With a motor car?”

“He’s a business man in Glasgow nowadays.”

“He? Is he — was he a beau of Aunty?”

“Now, this one is ready. I left some material in the seams, Amy’s getting fatter and fatter all the time. I think it’s tea-time soon.” Laura stood up and went to kitchen, and Louisa was left unanswered.

Of course she had been told not to listen behind the doors. But what can you do, when your mother does not answer your important question? Louisa put her basket on the table and kneeled behind the parlour door.

“Nonsense, Douglas”, she heard her Aunty say.”We are not children anymore.

”There was a time when I thought it wasn’t quite childlish”, said an unknown male voice. Louisa liked the voice at once; it was deep, tender, soft.”Weren’t we good chums that days?”

“Oh, yes! And good chums still, but nothing more.”

“As cold as twenty years ago.” The man stood up, because Louisa heard a voice of a chair. ”Well, I won’t hurry. Anyway, I’ll spend summer in the village, so I guess we’ll meet pretty often. I’ve rented my old home farm — without fields, of course.”

“I’m glad you’re back, Douglas”, said Aunt Maggie. ”And of course you’d like a cup of tea?”

“Maybe so, Maggie-o-mine.”

Louisa stood up and danced through the hall. Maggie-o-mine! Of course! This Douglas was a beau of Aunty — and now he had come back — and they would get married! Suddenly she stopped. Marriage would mean — oh, no — Aunty would leave them, she would move away to Glasgow town with her husband! Wasn’t that awful? Louisa sat on the stairs in despair.

Aunt Maggie opened the door and came to the hall followed by a tall, blond man in his fourties. He had a fancy suit and he looked friendly but firm.

”Hello, Louisa”, said Aunt Maggie. Her cheeks were redder than usual. “This is eldest of the daughters of Angus and Laura. Come to greet Mr Ferguson, darling.”

Louisa stood up, hold out her hand and courtseyed, but did not look to Mr Ferguson. He was an awful, ugly man, because he was taking her Aunty away!

”Louisa? That’s a pretty name. And pretty one you are, too. Did you know that?” Douglas Ferguson bowed and smiled to the girl, who drew herself back. She really would not be won with flatterings!

“Mommy needs me in the kitchen”, she muttered and ran away.

“Well, not a very companious one”, laughed Ferguson. Aunt Maggie knitted her brows — that was not like Louisa.

Douglas Ferguson had tea with the family. Tom could hardly drink, because he would have liked to fly to the motor car. Myra and Ethel were satisfied, because mother had taken the better jelly to table. Only Louisa sat with a shadow on her face. She was praying God that Douglas Ferguson would disappear like people in her fairytale book. But God did not like to make him disappear. Instead, Ferguson joked and laughed with Laura and Aunt Maggie.

After the tea he left and asked the children for a drive. Tom, Myra, and Ethel sat in the motor car with shining eyes, but Louisa said she had a headache and would prefer going to bed.

After a while the door of Louisa’s room was opened and Aunt Maggie stepped in.

”What’s the matter?’she asked and sat by Louisa, who lolled on her bed and tried to read a book.”You don’t look like having a headache, lass.”

Louisa did not say anything.

“Now, dear, what is it? Didn’t you like Mr Ferguson?”

“I hate him!”

Aunt Maggie winked her eyes few times after that burst.

“And for what reason?” she then asked.

”He — he will take you away!”

“Young lady, I will never be taken away without my own will! Tho put that like stuff in your pretty head?”

“I heard you talking”, Louisa sobbed and let the tears roll down her cheeks. “I know he proposed to you and you said you were just chums, and then he said he will live the whole summer in Lochdhu. I know you will agree some day, and then you’ll move to Glasgow with him and we lose you foreve-e-e-er!” She buried her face to the pillows and wept so that whole her slender body shivered.

Aunt Maggie sat quietly and caressed her hair.

“I should be flattered”, she then said with a gentle voice.”I mean, if you really like me that way.”

“I love you best after Mommy and Daddy, as much as Myra and Ethel!”

”Well, dearie, you mustn’t cry so. Stop it now, so I’ll tell you a story instead.”

Louisa lifted her wet, red face.

“A story?” she said with a little briskier voice.

“Yes, a romantic story. Now, sit here just by me. Once upon a time, exactly twenty years ago, right here, in Five Cherry Trees, lived a very romantic young girl called Margaret.”

”You!”

”Yes, me. She had a younger brother called Angus, who was a real rascal, so Margaret never paid any attention to lads — all of them were just trouble, she thought. But when she turned eighteen, she suddenly noticed there was a very nice boy in the village. He was called Douglas.”

“Mr Ferguson!”

“Don’t interrupt me, darling. Yes, it was Douglas Ferguson, son of the shop-keeper — you never knew old Gordon Ferguson. Well, Margaret used to do the shoppings for the family, and very often it was Douglas who stood behind the counter, when she went to the shop,. And these two became very good friends. They used to walk together from the church and the prayer-meetings, and in the weddings of the village youth they always danced together, so everybody was sure they would get married.”

”But they didn’t.”

”No, they didn’t. Margaret was sure Douglas would propose to her, and so he did. It was a very attracting moment; he proposed to her in the old orchard, just under those five cherry trees, and promised to make her happy, if she only agreed to become his wife.” Aunt Maggie quietened for a while, as to look back to that sunny summer day twenty years ago, and Louisa did not dare to speak.

Then Aunty continued again.

”Margaret was about to agree, because she liked Douglas so very much. But then he said he would take her to Glasgow — he was going to set up a shop there, and was sure to become a rich man. And that was it. Margaret didn’t want to go to the town. ‘No’, she said. ‘If you marry me, you must stay right here in Lochdhu — the only place in the world I could live — and set up a farm instead of a shop.’ But Douglas got angry, because there was not a drop of farmer-blood in him, and said Margaret should be grateful of having a chance to became a fine lady. Margaret said she would never be grateful of that, and that there was no use to ask her anymore. She would stay a friend of him, nothing more. So Douglas Ferguson left, and became rich, and Margaret stayed in Lochdhu and never got married, but took care of her silly little nieces.”

“So you won’t go to Glasgow?”Louisa asked slowly.

“Never. I was there once, as a young girl before I even knew Douglas — and hardly could breath in that smoke and noise. Douglas has come back just for a summer holiday, and I’m happy to meet him after all these years, but nothing more. Are you still worried?”

”No, Aunty — I’m just glad you’ve got your old friend here for summer. Oh, I’m so sorry I was so cranky to him!”

Aunt Maggie rose.

“That’s a good girl. I’m sure you’ll see him many times, so you can apologise.”

That evening, when Douglas Ferguson came from a walk through the old places he had so often remembered in his fine, cold, unfriendly Glasgow house, he found a little girl on the steps of his old home. The girl rose and courtseyed, and Mr Ferguson noticed it was Louisa from Five Cherry Trees.

”Good evening, Miss MacDonald”, he said.

Louisa blushed. Nobody had ever called her Miss MacDonald before.

“I — came — to — apologise”, she stammered. It is hard to apologise when the other is so kind. ”I — was — mean — to — you — today.”

“Oh, I just thought you were shy. So why you were mean? Did I do something wrong?” Douglas sat on the steps.

“I thought… I thought...” The colour on her cheeks got darker. ”Please, don’t ask me to tell the reason, it’s so stupid and, besides, it’s really a secret of Aunty and me.”

“A gentleman never urges ladies’ secrets. So, Louisa MacDonald, I guess we are friends now, ain’t we?”

“Sure. I — took some flowers to you. I asked Mommy how a gentleman must be apologised, and she said flowers are good in every situation, though it isn’t usually the lady who gives the flowers. I picked these up from the Wood and the orchard — under the cherry trees.”

Douglas started a little when Louisa hold out a fine bucket of forget-me-nots, bluebells, and wild roses. Did this wise child with so thick hair know something? In any case, she was a nice one.

“Thank you, dearie — I hope I can call you that way? I’ve often missed flowers of my homestead. Now, would you like to have some sweets? You can take them to your sisters and brother, too.”

“Tom’s not really my brother”, told Louisa and followed Douglas to the old house, which had been shut for so long time. ”He’s a son of my Mommy’s friend. But we play he is our brother.”

”A nice play, I think. Here, some peppermint and honeysticks. And now, you have to rush back home before your mother gets worried. But you must come back soon.”

”I’ll come.” Louisa was going through the living-room, when she saw an opened wood-box. ”Oh, Mr Ferguson — are those your books?”

“Yes.”

”All of them? Oh!” Louisa stared them with shining eyes.

“You like books? In that case you must come and help me with putting them in order in the library. And then you can come over to read any time you wish.”

Louisa gasped. This was heaven for her.

“I — think — you — can call me — ‘dearie’”, she murmured, blushed and ran away.

Chapter Seven: Weakness of the London Boy

Louisa’s face got better soon. On the Sunday she was just resting, but on Monday morning she was already clipping paper dolls for Ethel. And when her nose was in showable condition again, Laura arranged The Great Peace Picnic on the summer stones. Geordie Kerr came over and made a solemn peace treaty with Tom, though none of them did not forget the quarrel too soon.

The life at Five Cherry Trees went on. Laura had to sew hard, but a letter came from Angus MacDonald, and this was delight of the house for weeks. Tom made friends with the village boys and worked busy at the house — he enjoyed even getting dirty during the gardening, because “Mother always tells me not to get dirty and now I’m allowed to”.

But in a rainy June afternoon Aunt Maggie found Tom at the parlour window looking the raindrops splashing against the glass. The girls were up on the garret playing Summernight’s Dream.

“What are you doing here, young man?” Aunt Maggie asked friendly. “I thought you are with the lassies.”

“I — I just feel like being alone.”

“You don’t seem alone but lonely, if you ask me.” Aunt Maggie sat on a chair by Tom. “Troubles?”

“Not exactly.”

“Angus always told me that when he’d done something terrible as a boy. Now, what’s it?”

Tom gave a deep, desperate sigh.

“Just that — that I feel like a baby with the other fellows!”

“What do you mean? The boys of the village like you, I guess, and I’ve heard you have marvellous time together.”

“That’s true, but…” Tom turned to Aunt Maggie. “I’m still so weak after the illness — I can play and run and climb and swim as the others do, but I get tired all too soon, and if I run a long way I have to gasp, and if I hurt myself in a play I cannot help crying… The boys never say anything, but I just know they think I’m a London crybaby!”

“Crybaby fiddlesticks”, said Aunt Maggie. “Haven’t you told them you’ve been ill?”

“They know that. But yesterday I really got out of my breath after a race and had to lie down and gasp — and Donald MacGregor said, he didn’t mean I’d hear it, but he whispered so loudly — he said, ‘such an old woman he is. I’ve been ill three times and every time I was okay on a week!’ It — it just hurts, Aunty!”

“The MacGregors have always been fools”, muttered Aunt Maggie. “Well now, lad-o-mine, let’s talk it over. At the first place — we Scots think far too much of ourselves. We are excellent people, but you are half-a-Scot and as good as any of us. And what comes to Donald’s illnesses, his mother told me once that he only had cried and moaned all the time, when he had just toothache!”

“But the others… I can’t ever be as firm and healthy as they are!”

“They are country boys”, comforted Aunt Maggie. “Born and grown up in the countryside, breathed fresh country air, eaten good strong country food — you’ll be like them after a while, you’ll see. I’ll take care of that you’ll be a fine Highland lad when you return to London.”

Tom smiled sadly.

“Now, Tommie, you’ll go to the garret. I’m sure the girls need a hero up there.”

“Nobody else needs me but — the girls.”

“Don’t make a fool of yourself! We women always need heroes. Hurry up!”

Tom had learned to like that “hurry-up”. So he climbed to the garret and had a brilliant rainy day with Shakespeare and the MacDonald girls.

The rain continued for days, till all the ways and paths had turned into mud, and the pond was flowing through the old orchard. The little garden of Five Cherry Trees seemed so sad that Ethel sometimes peeped through the back door and said something friendly just to comfort it.

“Now, that would be enough”, said Laura in one morning, when sky was again as grey as iron. “I have no absolute want to swim to Lochdhu today.”

“Couldn’t you stay home, Mommy?” asked Myra. “You’ve been sewing for weeks, you never have time for us.”

“Darling, I wish I could”, Laura said and kissed her. “But we mustn’t complain. The Captain wants to see his crew straight and sound when he comes.”

“But oh, when he comes?” urged Ethel.

“God only knows. Now, it’s time to leave. Give my umbrella, Louisa — thank you. Be good children, and Tom, I think it would be better for you to stay in bed today. Your cough is getting worse.”

“Oh, it’s nothing”, Tom murmured.

“I’ll see he stays in bed”, promised Aunt Maggie. “Stop moaning now, young man.”

Tom remembered Donald MacGregor and quietened.

But the next morning was joyful everywhere in the village. Sun shone, there was no clouds on the bright blue sky, and all the world was washed and fresh.

By the noon Geordie Kerr came over for Tom. He had been at Five Cherry Trees few times after The Great Peace Picnic and did not feel so embarrassed there anymore.

“We’ll go to the Wood”, he said. “Will Jameson has a book of pioneers and Indians and we’re goin’ to play it. I need you to build a fortress with me.”

Tom had not not liked Will Jameson’s ideas after the first Sunday school, and he knew that the Wood would be still soaking, but he left with Geordie. He was not a London crybaby, he would show those Highland lads!

“What shall we do?” asked Myra, when they were left in the parlour. “That’s wrong with the brothers — they’re always leaving!”

“Let’s go to the orchard”, said Louisa. “Maybe the water in the pond is warm enough and we can swim.”

“The boys are in the Wood.”

“Does it matter? They won’t come to the pond, I guess.”

“I feel like swimming”, said Ethel briskly. She had learned to swim the summer before. “Let’s go.”

The way through the Wood was bright and warm, though the wet grass and leaves watered the girls’ dresses all over. But “it will dry till afternoon so Aunty notes nothing”, as Myra said, swinging her swimming suit. They could hear boys’ voices far away, but this part of the Wood was quiet and peaceful.

It was wonderful to swim in the cool water, though it was muddy after the heavy rain. But when Louisa and Myra got tired, Ethel did not. She was so proud of her almost new skill that she just swam to and fro in the pond.

“C’mon”, told Louisa. “You’ll catch cold there. Shall we go to he orchard and pick up some rain-dropped branches for a vase?”

“You may go”, said Ethel. “I swim that time.”

“I won’t leave you alone”, said Louisa. “It’s dangerous.”

“In what way?” asked Ethel and stopped for a while by the bank. “I’ll take care of myself. I can swim.”

“Let’s go”, said Myra. “We won’t stay away long, and she’s old enough to come up if she feels cold.”

“I’m not sure of it”, said Louisa. “You may go, I stay here.”

“Don’t be silly.” Myra was secretly wishing a special family story alone with Louisa. “Come with me, now?”

Louisa bit her lip.

“All right, then”, she finally said. “But remember, Ethel — at once you feel cold you must come up! And don’t swim to the deep end, and stay near the banks.”

“All right, Granny”, cried Ethel and splashed water like a baby duck.

Louisa left, but did not enjoy picking up the beautiful branches. She knew she should not have left Ethel, and she did not speak much, for Myra’s disappointment. Suddenly she heard voices.

“Something’s wrong — let’s run!” Louisa rushed through the orchard without even knowing what was going on.

When they reached the pond they saw Tom wading up from the water with Ethel on his arms. The little girls hair was all muddy and wet — she must have been under the water — and she was as white as chalk.

“Ethel!” Louisa cried and pushed some boys off her way. “What’s happened? Ethel, dearie!”

“I think she got a cramp”, said Tom and gently put Ethel on the grass. “We were just coming here when we heard her crying — she was in the middle of the pond, almost drowning. She had been twice under the water before I caught her.”

“Tom just ran into the water”, said Geordie, who had took his jacket off and offered it for Ethel. “He saved her, none of us could have done it as quickly.”

Tom looked away and blushed. Women need heroes, had Aunty said, but it seemed as if the boys had been looking at him admiringly, too.

“Mommy!” Ethel began to cough and cry. “Am I in heaven?”

“No, you’re at the pond”, said Louisa as tenderly as she could. “It’s all right now.”

“Louisa!” Ethel hold out her hands. “Oh, Louisa, I thought I would die! It was horrible!”

“Tom saved you”, said Myra. “He’s a hero.”

“Nonsense”, said Tom.

“I know what he is and he is wet”, said Louisa. “We must get both of you into house. Please, Geordie, would you run beforehand and tell Aunty to have warm water — much of warm water for two baths.”

“Ay-ay, sir!” Geordie rushed away.

The other boys had began to draw back. They did not want to be accused for the accident, and besides they both envied and admired the London boy.

“You’ll take Ethel’s shawl”, said Myra to Tom, who took Ethel on his arms again. “It’s warm.”

When they entered the house, Aunt Maggie ran to the steps.

“Oh, you… Are you all right, Ethel? And you, Tom? Really I won’t dare even to wink after that, I see — gimme the lassie, there’s warm bath for her soon, and you go and get out of your clothes, Tom. Louisa and Myra, have more towels. Geordie, please run to the village and call for Mrs MacDonald, she’s at the Cunningham’s.” Aunt Maggie gave orders as a general, and her soldiers obeyed as good soldiers do — without asking.

Later in the evening, when both Ethel and Tom had got warm and the worst upset had gone, the family had a long discussion. Laura did not scold the children, because it would not have done any good, but she reminded them of duty.

“I know I shouldn’t have left Ethel”, admitted Louisa.

“But she didn’t obey us”, pointed Myra.

“So all of you were guilty. And Tom, dearie, without you…” Laura looked down, but there was something wet in her lashes and she sobbed before smiling. “Well, that’s all over. But, for heaven’s sake, never has it happened so much as in this summer!”

“This was not my fault, at last”, grinned Tom.

“No, it wasn’t, and I’m sure that your reputation as the rescuer of Ethel’s life will be wider-spred as that as a mouse-owner and a china-broker.”

The children laughed.

“What did I tell you, you weak London crybaby”, whispered Aunt Maggie and pinched Tom gently with her needlestick. “Half-a-Scot and as good as any Highlander!”

Chapter Six: For A Lady’s Sake

“Please, tell us about the knights”, urged Ethel. “Kitty Brown showed me yesterday pictures of her book, and they looked so brave and handsome!”

It was a dusty Saturday afternoon in the old orchard on the banks of the pond. The sun had shone warmly the whole day, and the air was thick and tiring. The children lolled on the dry grass and looked down to the deepness of the pond, dreaming about the heroes of Five Cherry Trees.

It was a week since Tom had arrived to the manor, and now he felt like he had been living there all his life. How he loved these afternoon hours, when everybody was a little weary of play and work, and they just sat together and Louisa told something!

Now only a half an hour was left before Louisa should go and milk the cow. She did not usually need to do that because Aunt Maggie was wisely sure that free palying time was more useful for a 12-year-old girl than doing as much chores as possible. But now Aunty and Laura were asked for a wedding in Glennari, wherefrom they would not return until late, and it was Louisa’s duty to take care of Clover the cow in that kind of situation.

“Well, I must confess I don’t know much about them”, said Louisa. “Only that they were gentlemen — they honoured ladies, and sometimes they competited for their sake. At the competitions — they were called tournaments — the knight used to wear his lady’s scarf or something with her colours to show for who’s sake he was battling.”

“Were there any knights at Five Cherry Trees?” asked Myra, who sniffed a romance.

“No, I guess, because the knights used to exist hundreds of years before Five Cherry Trees was founded. But maybe there were some among our family ghosts — I’ll ask Mommy or Aunty and tell you tomorrow after the Sunday school. But now I think I’ll go to Clover, she’s so cranky if milking’s late.”

But Louisa never told about knights, because a real competition for a lady’s sake took place in the children’s peaceful life.

It is hard to say whose fault it was in the first place. Maybe Laura MacDonald’s; when she had during the years written to Cristen Callanger about her children, she had described Louisa a real dream-girl, who was always imagining things and telling stories. So, when Mrs Callanger was buying presents for the MacDonald family before Tom’s leave, she chose for Louisa a hard-covered note book with creamy leaves and the sweetest pencil she could find in the shops of London. It almost took Louisa’s breath away, when she unwrapped the papers and found a little pine-tree box with the pencil on a velvet pillow. It was pearly, silverly shining one, with golden letters “L. M.”

She had carried the pencil with her in the Sunday school a week before, because she wanted to mark her verses in the Bible with such a beautiful thing, but nobody had really noticed it because of the mess of Carrie the mouse. The day after the discussion about the knights at the pond, Louisa took again the pencil, when she collected her things for the Sunday school.

This time the class was behaving. Tom and Geordie wanted to say aloud their chapters in Genesis, though Miss Marshall tried to refuse, and they did it so brilliantly that they both received a little book-mark of thick cardboard.

But when the class was dismissed, Geordie Kerr asked to see Louisa home.

“Well, I’m going with the others, anyway”, she said with a little — just little — flirting airs.

“But I thought you’d like to see our new kittens”, said Geordie. “They’ve just opened their eyes.”

“Ethel likes cats, too.”

“I want to show them to you. Won’t you come with me and drop in?” Geordie smiled so that Louisa could not refuse. So she told her sisters she had something to do and would be a little late for the Sunday lunch — though shen knew that mother would not like that.

The kittens were the sweetest things Louisa had ever seen. But when she was leaving the barn with Geordie, she dropped something to the dusty floor.

“Oh”, she cried, “my pencil!”

“Isn’t it a fine one”, said Geordie admiring while picking it up. “Where did you get it?”

“Tom gave it to me.”

“Tom?” Geordie knitted his eyebrows. “Really?”

“You know, he’s rich”, told Louisa innocently. “They have a great house in London and he’s got a nanny and a tutor and so on. You should have seen the other marvellous things he gave to us!”

Louisa had no intention to make Geordie jealous. But it was what she did. Geordie saw her home almost speechless. He had liked Tom well since they had got acquainted in the Sunday school a week before, but now he felt he could not bear him anymore.

“I’ve heard those English things get broken easily”, he said at the gate of Five Cherry Trees.

“Oh, maybe I’ll get a new one. Bye!” Louisa swinged her hand and rushed in, because she saw her family at the dinner table and did not want scolding.

“At last you came, Louisa”, said Laura, when she arrived with rosy cheeks. “I met Mrs Cunningham at the church, and she asked us for a visit. You know, she’s old and lonely, and she especially wishes to see you children.”

“That’s nice”, said Louisa and took her seat. “I’m sorry I’m late, but I was over at the Kerr’s place to see the new kittens.”

“Oh, do they have kittens?” gasped Ethel. “Why didn’t you ask me along?”

“Geordie wanted only me.” Louisa took her spoon with a little proud airs.

Tom stared at her. That was fine, indeed! “Geordie wanted only me” — who had given Geordie Kerr a right to want anybody, especially Louisa?

“May I excuse?” he said.

“You haven’t eaten your soup”, said Aunt Maggie. “You need to eat properly to get well soon.”

“I’m just not hungry. Please?”

“You can go”, said Laura, and Tom stood up and went to the yard.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Myra.

“Maybe he’s excited for the visit. Now, eat your meal, girls, so we can leave.”

Mrs Cunningham was a round, rosy widow of eighty, who had no grandchildren. That was why she adored the Lochdhu children, and had always something special for them. When the MacDonalds arrived, she had some honeysticks ready. Honeysticks were the newest fashion among the Lochdhu scholars; they were wooden sticks put into honey till it covered them thickly. Honeysticks were so sweet that one could not eat many of them at one time, and so tacky that Aunt Maggie had once used a whole afternoon washing the fingerprints from the girls’ aprons.

After the tea the children received their honeysticks, and then they ran to the yard, where an old oak was spreading its branches. It was the best tree for climbing in the whole village.

At the same time Geordie Kerr came through the gate. His mother had sent him over to carry some eggs for Mrs Cunningham.

“Hello!” cried Ethel from the arms of the oak. “Shall you come and play with us?”

“I don’t think so”, muttered Geordie and glowed at Tom. “I think you have company enough.”

“Don’t be silly”, said Louisa. “Of course you’ll come.”

“What’s that ‘of course’?” asked Tom suddenly. “We’ll do fine without him — better!”

“Is that what you say, London boy?” Geordie’s voice was bitter. “Do not tear your silk stockings!”

“Well, I don’t have to carry around eggs like some old woman!” cried Tom.

Geordie blushed. With two steps he was under the tree.

“Repeat that if you dare, London boy!”

“Like an old woman — like an old ugly woman!”

“All right, London boy. Come down so I’ll show you!”

“What you could show — a couple of kittens?” Tom’s anger grew when he remembered Louisa’s happy face at the lunch.

“Tom, are you crazy?” exclaimed Myra. “Stop that quarreling, or Mommy and Aunty will hear!”

“Yep, London boy”, said Geordie. “You’d better to believe what the other girls say!”

That was the last drop for Tom. This lad — who called himself Louisa’s beau — would not humble him anymore! He came down from the tree.

“Show me then, if you please!”

Geordie forgot his basket of eggs. He rushed on Tom — this London boy would not charm Louisa with fancy pencils or nannies!

Ethel began to cry, Myra screamed, Louisa was horrified. In some way she understood which was the reason for this fight. But she was not old enough to enjoy the competition of those two — she just felt miserable and guilty. That blessed pencil! Next time she would not take it to Sunday school! But it did not help now.

She swinged herself down to the ground and ran to the boys.

“Stop!” she exclaimed. “Don’t you hear me — stop it! You fools!”

None of them heard her, so she tried to go between the fighters. But just at that moment Geordie tried to hit Tom. He never did; the blow reached Louisa, who flew on her back with a bleeding nose.

That was oil for the waves of anger. Tom and Geordie stopped their fight and stared at the girl, who was lieing on the ground with so pale, bloody face and closed eyes.

“You killed her!” Myra jumped down. “You killed her, you awful, mean, disgusting boys! Oh, Louisa, say something — just something!” She bowed over her sister and tried to wipe the blood off with her handkerchief. “Oh, Ethel, get Mommy — we need Mommy!”

Little Ethel rushed in. After a while Laura, Aunt Maggie, and Mrs Cunningham came with horror.

“What’s going on here — Louisa, my little girl, are you all right?” Laura kneeled on her side.

“She’s fainted”, told Aunt Maggie. “I’ll get some water.”

“And she needs handkerchieves, too.” Mrs Cunningham followed Aunt Maggie. “All fiddlesticks!”

At the yard Geordie had stepped to Laura.

“I hit her”, he whispered. “I didn’t mean to — she was just on my way.”

“He fought with Tom”, gossiped Ethel.

“Fought! Why on earth?”

The lads looked each other.

“I asked a question.” Laura’s gentle voice was full of iron. “Why did you fight?”

“Because… because…” Tom fingered his torn shirt. “We just…”

Geordie had a long breath.

“Louisa had got a beautiful pencil from Tom and I didn’t want her to boast with it so much and I thought the London boy needs a lesson!”

Laura sighed. The old story!

“Well, you have right to solve your problems and disagreements, but for heaven’s sake not in that way! Louisa, darling, are you all right?”

Louisa opened slowly her eyes.

“Mommy… Oh, my head… What happened?”

“Something terrible, but now it’s over. Can you rise and sit?”

“I — guess — so.” Louisa rose and leant against her mother’s shoulder, when Aunt Maggie came with the water and Mrs Cunningham with the handkerchieves.

“Is she alive? Thank heaven”, Aunt Maggie sighed. “But we must staunch that bleeding. Your nose is a fine piece of a potato now, young lady!”

“It wasn’t Louisa’s fault”, interrupted Myra, who had been too shocked to speak. “She tried to separate Tom and Geordie!”

“Maybe it’s best Louisa comes in and has a good rest on my coach”, suggested Mrs Cunningham. “Such a jolt!”

At the same time Geordie remembered again the eggs. He turned to take the basket, but — well, the basket was there, but the eggs had been dropped out and got broken and covered not only the yard but their clothes, too.

“Your mother will like that”, said Mrs Cunningham more friendly than sarcastically. “Come in, all of you, and I warm some water, so you can wash yourselves. And there’s a couple of honeysticks left, girls. One for Louisa, of course, sugar is best after that kind of happenings.”

For two hours Louisa lolled on the coach, while the lads washed themselves and their clothes in the little bathroom. They had to wear Mrs Cunningham’s late husband’s old clothes while their own were out drying, and the girls teased them with all their hearts, when Tom came in wearing a long nightgown with frills and Geordie had trousers that where until his armpit.

“Really, Louisa, I’m sorry”, said Tom and stepped nearer. “I didn’t mean to be such a fool.”

“You never mean to be anything, Thomas Callanger”, pointed Louisa. “But you never think.”

“I assure you I think that on!”

“I’m sorry, too”, said Geordie. “Really I had no intention to turn your nose upside down!”

“If it’s spoiled forever, it’s your fault”, said Louisa cruely and squinted to see the said nose. “But Aunt Maggie told me it’ll be all right in a week or so, so I maybe can forgive you. Now, sit down, and I tell you something.”

“About knights?” asked Ethel hopefully.

“No, there have been enough tournament for one day, I think. I tell you about the wild horses. I read about them one day in some of Daddy’s books.”

And Louisa told, till all of them imagined themselves riding over the prairie on a wild horse’s back, and Aunt Maggie came to them and said,

“Time to go home, you little vandals.”

Chapter Five: Robin Hood and His Merry Men

Mrs Macguaire’s taft dress turned out to be worse than Laura MacDonald had ever thought. She worked over it the whole Monday, and on Tuesday morning she asked Louisa to come along and help her with it.

“It must be ready before Thursday evening, because Diana’s asked to a party in Glennari”, she said. “And I never get through alone in time.”

So Louisa left for the village with her mother. Aunt Maggie was baking in the kitchen and drove Myra and Ethel out because they wanted to eat all the crackers.

“What shall we do?” asked Ethel. “Play home?”

“That’s so childlish”, sniffed Myra. “I feel like a story now, but Louisa’s not here.”

“Maybe Tom could tell one.”

“No, he’s just reading his stupid books in the Wood.”

“But we shall ask”, suggested Ethel, who was a very optimistic young person. “Let’s go!”

Myra shrugged her shoulders and followed her sister.

Tom was lieing under a big spruce with a novel. When the girls appeared he gave a sigh. It would have been too much asked to be allowed to read in peace.

“What’s it?” he asked.

“Couldn’t you tell us a story?” asked Ethel. “We’ve got nothing to do.”

“Well…” Tom felt flattered. “I cannot tell stories, I guess. But maybe we could play something.”

“I suggested playing home, but Myra didn’t want to.”

“I don’t mean that kind of a play. A different one. You see, this novel tells about Robin Hood and his merry men in Sherwood Forest. I’d like to play that story. Do you know Robin Hood?”

“Miss Marshall once read us a story of him”, remembered Myra. “He robbed from the poor and gave to the rich.”

“No, he robbed from the rich and gave to the poor”, corrected Tom. “He was a bravest Englishman that ever lived.”

“That’s the only shadow on him — he was an Englishman”, continued Myra. “All right, I guess it’d be nice to play that.”

“Fine!” Tom jumped up. “Who will be Robin Hood?”

“You”, said Ethel. “It was you who discovered the idea.”

“Well, I can be Robin. And you are my merry men. We’d need something green on us, but I guess it’ll be all right that way, too. And this is Sherwood.”

“Where do we live?” asked Myra. “We need a fireplace and a little cosy cottage to sleep in.”

“Outlaws never sleep in any cosy cottages”, said Tom. “They cuddle under the trees and have just a quilt if they’re lucky.”

“Don’t they have cold?”

“They don’t care. Are you playing or not?”

“Of course”, Myra hurried to say.

It was a sunny, joyful day. Robin Hood and his merry men ran to and fro in Sherwood, fled from the sheriff’s men and arrested some of them. When they had enough prisoners, Robin Hood said,

“Now, we must rob somebody rich. Do you know any rich person?”

“I do”, said the smallest of the merry men. “He’s Mr Stevenson and he’s awfully mean. He never gives anything to the church collection.”

“Where does he live?” asked Robin Hood. “We can’t go to Nottingham because the sheriff would arrest and hang us at once.”

The smallest of the merry men shivered.

“He — he lives in Lochdhu.”

“In Nottingham, you mean? Well, I’m afraid we can’t have the risk.”

“But we must get food for the poor”, said Little John, who had got the role of this bold outlaw because of the fancy hat, though Robin Hood had said outlaws never wore silk rosettes and paper flowers. “And Mr Stevenson hasn’t got a dog.”

“Well”, said Robin Hood. “Maybe we can try. But be careful, men! If anything happens, you must save Maid Marian!”

The smallest of the merry men was about to aske who was this maid, but Little John put her hand on her mouth and promised they would save Maid Marian.

So Robin Hood and his men crossed the bridge over the pond and wandered through the orchard, where Little John picked some cherry blossoms and put them on her button-hole, though Robin Hood said outlaws never wore any cherry blossoms.

To Lochdhu they came. The white-plastered houses shone in the sun, flower beds were colourful and some children played on the road.

“Well”, said Robin Hood. “Where does this aforesaid mister live?”

“That way”, said the smallest of the merry men. “He lives in that old house without flowers.”

“I can see him”, whispered Little John. “He’s on his potato field!”

“And there’s no guard in his house? Let’s go, men!” Brave Robin Hood marched through the gate and to the door which was open, because Mr Stevenson had burned his breakfast and the house needed airing.

“What shall we do here?” asked the smallest of the merry men, when they stood in the big kitchen, which smelled still little smoky.

“Err, I don’t know”, muttered Robin Hood. “I mean, we cannot really steal anything.”

“We can imagine stealing”, suggested Little John. “Some food which we give to the poor.”

“I think even imagining of stealing is wrong”, pointed the smallest of the merry men.

“It can’t be”, said Robin Hood. “Because some authors write about murders and don’t go to jail for one! All right, we’ll imagine having some bread and butter and ham for the poor. Now we can go.”

At that very moment a shadow passed the kitchen window.

“Mr Stevenson is coming!” cried Little John. “He will kill us!”

Robin Hood did not really think he would go that far, but Little John’s horror won both him and the smallest of the merry men.

“We must get out! Mommy!” exclaimed Ethel totally forgetting that she was a brave outlaw.

Myra rushed to the little chamber behind the kitchen and lay down under the bed. Tom and Ethel followed her, Tom trying to make Ethel stop her sobbing.

Mr Stevenson came in and rustled something in the kitchen. Myra prayed God to let him go out once more, but that dit not happen. Instead Mr Stevenson came into the chamber and took a key from a drawer in his desk. Then he opened a little cupboard on the opposite wall and took a purse from it.

“His money”, whispered Myra.

Mr Stevenson sat down by the desk and began to count his money. He was clearly about to go and buy something from the store. Counting seemed to last forever; Ethel was so horrified that she could have begun to cry outloud in every second, and Tom felt he was going to cough quite soon because of the dusty floor.

But it was Myra who sneezed. She was not going to sneeze, it just bursted out.

Mr Stevenson hopped as a hare on his chair.

“Who’s there?” he asked.

No answer. Ethel had almost fainted for fear, and Tom hold his hand before her mouth.

“Who’s there?” Mr Stevenson asked again. Then he rose and took his gun from the wall. “I’ll count till three. If ye won’t come here and show yerself, I’ll shut ye! I ken ye’re under the bed! One, two…”

Tom turned into view.

“Here’s just us”, he said and wished his voice would not have shivered so horribly. “We — we are just playing.”

“Playing!” roared Mr Stevenson. “Under my very bed! I tell ye what ye’re doin’. Ye’re goin’ to rob my pennies while I was out — just that, man! Rob poor man’s last pennies! Who are ye, lad? I dunno ye.”

“I’m Thomas Callanger, sir”, said Tom, stood up and drew Myra and Ethel from their hide. “And these are Myra and Ethel MacDonald.”

“The MacDonald lassies? Well, that’s nice. Do ye have to rob money for yer manor?”

“We — didn’t — come — to — rob”, stammered brave little Ethel. “We — played — Robin Hood…”

“Robin Hood! I show ye Robin Hood!” Mr Stevenson grabbed Myra’s hair in his hand. “Where’s yer mother, young lady?”

“She’s — at — the Macguaire’s… Oh, please, let me go, you hurt me!”

“Ye’ll be hurt much more. Go on, we’ll clear it all up!”

“Let her be!” demanded Tom. “It was all my fault, I discovered the play!”

“I believe that, ye London boy — first ye break Mrs MacDonald’s china, then ye get mice into Sunday school — a real Englishman, indeed!”

“He’s half-a-Scot”, whispered Ethel.

“And ye’re half-a-las if ye won’t get uut of my way! Mr Stevenson pushed Myra out before him. “Now, follow me, ye two, or I show ye! At Macguaire’s ye said?”

Laura MacDonald never forgot that afternoon. She was sewing the taft dress in all peace, Louisa helping with the wide hem, when Mr Stevenson rushed into the Macguaire kitchen pulling crying Myra’s hair, followed by sobbing Ethel and horrified Tom.

“Here, ma’am, yer fine bairns! They’re thieves, nothin’ better, ma’am!”

“What’s the matter?” asked Laura. “What’s going on?”

“What’s goin’ on! These young rascals were in my house, under my very bed! They were tryin’ to steal my money, that’s goin’ on!”

“No we weren’t!” interrupted Tom.

“Shut up! Yes, there they were, ma’am, and I’d like to ask who’s taught that kind of tricks to them!” Mr Stevenson was as red as a tomato.

Louisa and Mrs Macguaire looked at each other. Diana Macguaire was a young, gentle woman and liked the MacDonalds very much. She new the children could never even think of stealing, and now she broke in.

“Mr Stevenson, at first I ask you to let the girl. You’re hurting her badly. And then, please, take a seat and tell us everything.”

Mr Stevenson obeyed, and Myra ran to Louisa, who hugged her and kissed her aching head, while Mr Stevenson told everything from his own point of view.

“And now”, said Laura, “it’s the children’s turn. Why in earth were you in Mr Stevenson’s house, Tom?”

Tom told everything, too. He felt very embarrassed — he should not have played with so full-hearted, he should have thought a little.

“A nice fairytale, indeed”, sniffed Mr Stevenson. “Who’s told ye that? This plaity one who’s goin’ around and telling lies?”

“I tell stories, Mr Stevenson”, Louisa said coldly. “But I’m afraid you don’t have imagination enough to understand the word.”

“Louisa!” snapped Laura.

Louisa swallowed.

“I’m sorry I said that aloud”, she muttered. “But it’s still the truth.”

“A fine family!”

“Now, Mr Stevenson”, said Diana Macguaire firmly, “you must be sensible. You were a little boy once and played like all the little boys in the world. So do try to understand. These children just wanted some excitement and were unthinking. You know they never steal.”

“What about that London boy?”

“I may be a London boy but I’m a honest one!” cried Tom. “I’m sorry we went to your house without permission, but we just wanted to imagine we were in Nottingham and robbed food for the poor.”

“Food for the poor!”

“If you have never read Robin Hood I can warmly recommend it”, Laura MacDonald said softly. “The children have apologised and I’m sure everything is now all right. If you please could leave us now, we’ve much to do.”

When Laura and Louisa came home late in that evening, Laura made a little sermon for the criminals. Myta and Ethel cried again and Tom bit his lip.

“I’m happy to see you playing, I’m happy to see you using your imagination”, Laura said finally. “But you must understand the difference between play and truth. That’s why I’m glad when Louisa tells you stories. Then you see it’s only a story, with the start and the end, after which the truth begins. I hope you understand the difference after this.”

“We will, Mommy”, said Ethel and came to kiss her. “I’m sorry!”

“I’m sorry, too”, whispered Myra.

“And I”, said Tom. “Please, Laura, don’t tell my parents!”

“I never will. Come now, you others, too, and give me a kiss. Today’s excitement is over, it’s time to go to bed and meet a new fresh day next morning.”

“Well, that was the best story I’ve ever heard”, laughed Aunt Maggie, who had tried to be angry during this conversation, when the children had gone. “And it was just right for the Stevenson man, if you ask me!”

“Hush”, said Laura. “What did you say about Louisa’s upper storey the other night? But I must admit I enjoyed to see Mr Stevenson at last hold his tongue. And there’s never a boring moment when Tom’s in the house, I see!”

Chapter Four: At the Orchard

It was a June Sunday twilight, which differs from every other twilight in the world. The old cherry trees at the orchard were full of white blossoms, the grass was as soft as a child’s cheek, and the veil of Summernight Maid was covering the land.

Louisa, Tom, Myra, and Ethel were spending their last happy hours before sleep under the cherry trees. Though tonight they did not felt as happy as usually. Myra had her large hat on her for comfort, and Tom lay on the grass resting his head on little Ethel’s hem. She caressed his black hair so tenderly that he nearly could believe it was his non-existing little sister with so soft hands.

“I can tell you a story”, said Louisa. Everybody seemed still so serious after the Sunday school misfortune that she felt they needed some refreshing. “It’s something about our great-great-great-uncle Neil MacDonald and the ‘Forty-Five.”

“Oh, please, tell!” asked Myra. “Tom hasn’t heard any of your tales yet!”

Louisa smiled.

“Neil MacDonald was the most handsome lad of Clan Donald”, she began. “He had auburn hair — that’s why Aunty always says Myra’s hair is ‘something like Neil’s’ — and glad eyes, and he sang and played fiddle, and all the lassies of his clan were in love with him.

“When Prince Charlie arrived in Scotland, Neil went out like the others did. He said goodbye to his mother and sisters and bonnie Peggy MacDonald, his cousin, who he was about to marry. So he left with his sword and his fiddle, and bravely he fought, as all the MacDonalds did — and their attempt to fail in Culloden was just the fault of the stupid officers.

“Neil survived Culloden, but he was arrested and put into a prison in Inverness. He had to stay there six months, knowing nothing about the outside world, nothing about his family and his sweetheart. Then seventy of the prisoners were transported into a ship which took them overseas to America. America was a part of Britannia that time, as you know. And there they were sold as slaves.”

“Oh!” cried Ethel and looked horrified. “Neil, too?”

“Neil, too. He was bought by a rich plantation-owner, and because he was a firm young man, he had to work hard.

“But then a group of Indians attacked on the plantation. Some of the slaves joined them, but Neil was a good Christian and fought for his master, till he was wounded and carried into the house. The daughter of the plantation-owner nursed Neil, and fell in love with his bonnie face and brave soul — he never complained, though he had awful pains.

“When Neil was healed and about to go back to the fields again, the daughter begged his father for mercy. The plantation-owner, who liked Neil, too, asked if he would marry his daughter, because he knew Neil was a good lad and from a fine family back in Scotland. But Neil told him he had a bride already waiting. So the plantation-owner gave him his freedom and some money and clothes and sent him back to Scotland.

“It was five years since Neil had left his home. When he came back nobody knew him; he saw burned homes and killed Highlanders. To the redcoats he told he was an American and looking for servants from the Old Country.

“When he came to Peggy’s home he found her in a very weak condition. She had pneumonia and she hardly could speak; but she swore she had always loved Neil and would love him ever after. Neil kissed her, and so she died in his arms.”

Myra began to sob and hide her face into her hat. Tom rose up. This was far too exciting to hear on one’s back.

“After Peggy’s funeral Neil left for Canada. He founded a little farm and lived there alone, with only his memories as company; and when he died, one of this rare friends had it written on his grave stone, ‘Here rests Neil MacDonald, faithful in life, faithful in death.’” Louisa quietened.

“Why didn’t he marry the daughter of the plantation-owner?” asked Ethel shyly.

“Because he didn’t love her, of course”, said Louisa. “And it’s not a real marriage if you don’t love your wife.”

“It was a sad story”, said Tom. “Sad and beautiful. Where did you learn it?”

“Mommy and Aunty like to tell stories”, said Louisa and smiled. “And I like to listen and re-tell them. That’s simple. Who’s coming?”

Somebody was walking along the path from the pond.

“It’s Geordie Kerr”, exclaimed Myra and dried her tears. “What’s about Will Jameson?”

“Hey”, said Geordie. “That’s why I’m over.”

“Did you spank him?” asked Ethel the amazon.

“No. We caught him and he moaned and begged so pitifully that at last we let him be. But we ragged him to Miss Marshall’s and made him to confess. And Miss asked me to apologise you and tell you can forget the punishment, Tom.”

“Oh, isn’t that wonderful!” exclaimed Louisa.

Tom grinned.

“Thanks”, he said. “Though I think I learn the two first chapters anyway. It was may fault, too — if I hadn’t whispered with you, Miss Marshall wouldn’t have scolded us and Carrie wouldn’t have been frightened. I wish Will will find it somewhere.”

“If that’s so I’ll learn the third and fourth chapter”, promised Geordie. “What you’re doin’ here?”

“Louisa told a story”, said Ethel. “Can’t you tell another for Geordie, now?”

“No”, said Louisa. “The stories are like candies — if you get too much you don’t care of them anymore.”

“I would”, said Geordie. “I would listen your stories all day long.”

“It’s not a day, it’s evening already”, snapped Louisa firmly and stood up. “And time to go and sleep.”

When Geordie had gone home and the children were in their beds, Laura MacDonald went to the dining-room, where Aunt Maggie was reading her Bible.

“I’m afraid we haven’t yet counted all the harms Cristen’s boy will find here”, she said and sat before her sister-in-law. “I see he’s a great one with getting into trouble.”

“Well, he’s a great one with getting from trouble, too, if you ask me”, Aunt Maggie said friendly. “He’s half-a-Scot and we Scots never stay in trouble, Laura, dear. It’s better for you to go to sleep, too. It’s Monday tomorrow and you’ll have a hard work with Mrs Macguaire’s taft dress.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Laura gave a sigh and rose. “Sometimes I dream of being on Angus’ ship, staying on the deck and feeling the wind on my hair — and knowing that all the taft dresses are hundreds of miles away!”

“Don’t speak that way, darling”, Aunt Maggie told her and shut the Bible. “Louisa can hear you, and there’s enough nonsense in her upper storey already, if you ask me.”

Chapter Three: The Sunday School

“Of course you are going to the Sunday school with the girls”, said Aunt Maggie next morning, Sunday, during the breakfast. “I hope you have your Bible along.”

“Yes I do — but I’ve never been in a Sunday school”, confessed Tom.

“You haven’t?” cried Myra. “Are you a heathen?”

“Be quiet, lassie”, scolded Laura.

“I’ve never been in any school”, continued Tom with a blush. “I have had only tutors. And my nanny used to teach me Bible on Sundays.”

“Did you have a nanny?” asked Ethel with glimmering eyes. “Oh, you are like a lord or something!”

“Mother does not trust on boarding schools. And — and…” Tom took a long breath. “I’m an Anglican.”

“For heaven’s sake”, cried Aunt Maggie. “Just like the women who marry Englishmen! Well, an Anglican or not, you’re going into a Presbyterian Sunday school here, if you ask me. I think it’s time to start your religious education.”

“Maggie”, said Laura gently. Then she turned to Tom. “You can go with the girls if you like, Tom, but you don’t have to — you can as well come to the church with Maggie and me.”

“I — I prefer the Sunday school”, said Tom. “Because I’ve never been in one.”

“Thank God, he’s got some sense”, muttered Aunt Maggie. “Now, eat your breakfast quickly or we’ll be late.”

After the meal Ethel helped with the dishes and Louisa and Myra went upstairs for their Bibles and Hymn books. Then Louisa dropped into Tom’s room.

“What is it like to have tutors?” she asked. “Isn’t it romantic? Just like in Jane Eyre!”

“It’s not a bit romantic”, Tom crushed her dreams. “Mr Falcon was an awfully strict man, I had to know everything about everything, and if I didn’t, he went to mother and told her I’m a lazy and ungrateful rascal who doesn’t deserve any schooling at all! Who’s the teacher in the Sunday school?”

“Our school teacher, Miss Marshall. She’s young and very nice, but you must sit quiet all the time. So don’t whisper with the boys.”

“I guess they don’t want to whisper with me.” Tom took his Bible. “I’m ready now. Shall we take the carriage?”

“Of course not, never for Lochdhu. Or are you tired?” Louisa asked anxiously.

“No, I just thought… Is it Myra?”

“C’mon”, said Myra and put her head in. “Everybody is waiting!”

The journey down to Lochdhu was very funny, because the children joked and laughed all the time, till Aunt Maggie very strictly pointed that they were goint to the Sunday school, not to a circus.

“We’ll be here for you after the service”, said Laura by the school house. “Obey the teacher.”

They stepped into the house. The classroom was filled with children of all ages; the youngest were three, the oldest fifteen. All the girls had rosettes in their hats, and Myra sniffed. Aunt Maggie had told her not to take the straw hat, though Myra had threatened not to learn any verses by heart since. But the blue ribbon in her auburn hair was a little comfort, as she sat by Annie Weilson, her bosom friend at school.

Little Ethel went to the first pew, where the smallest girls used to sit, and Louisa had her seat with the bigger girls. Only one place was available, by a tall, handsome lad of about fourteen. Tom stepped nearer and then sat carefully down.

“Who are you?” asked the boy. He had sandy curly hair and glad grey eyes. “You’re new here, man.”

“Yes, I — I just arrived.”

“Oh, I know. You’re the London boy, aren’t you? Well, you don’t look as bad as I thought — Moira Macaulay came over last evening and told Mommy something about an awful English lad, who broke Mrs MacDonald’s best china.”

Poor Tom turned bright red.

“It — was — an accident”, he stammered.

“And Moira Macaulay always tells gossips”, continued the boy. “My name is George Kerr, just call me Geordie.”

“I’m Thomas Callanger, Tom.”

“Nice to have a new face here. So you’re livin’ at Fice Cherry Trees? It’s a fine place.”

“It really is.”

“I”ve been there twice — once in Ethel’s baptizing, though I cannot remember it so much, I was only six — and once at a school spring party, it was hold in their park.”

“At the summer stones?”

“Oh, you know them? And once I was on the gate, when I saw Louisa from the prayer-meeting.”

Tom did not know, why this information made him angry.

“You did what?” he asked.

Geordie laughed.

“Aren’t you sweet on her? Louisa’s a bonnie one. But don’t you try to set your eyes on her — I’ve been her beau already for a year.”

At that very moment Miss Marshall came in and Tom could not answer. But he felt suddenly very miserable. Louisa was bonnie — and nice — well, he was not just sweet on her, but he would have hoped she did not have a beau already.

The Sunday school began with a Hymn and a prayer. Then all the children had to say their verses aloud. When it was Tom’s turn, he stood up and said,

“I’m new here, so I have no verse.”

“Oh, you should have told it to me in the very beginning”, said Miss Marshall. “What’s your name?”

The whole class had turned to stare Tom. He was so afraid of blushing that he blushed.

“Look, look, a London boy!” whispered somebody, and Tom blushed even more.

“Th-Thomas Callanger”, he stammered at last.

“All right.” Miss Marshall wrote it down in her book. “You may sit.”

Tom sat, though he would have liked to rush out. Louisa looked at him — no, was she looking at Geordie? Of course she was ashamed of him now, he had acted like a shy girl.

“Hey.” Geordie touched his hand. “Look.”

Tom looked the boy before them. He had taken a cigarette box from his jacket’s pocket and now opened it. A  little white mouse peeped out.

“That’s Will Jameson”, whispered Geordie. “The lad, I mean. The mouse is Carrie. Will loves animals and Carrie is his favourite.”

“Doesn’t it run away?” Tom asked.

“I suppose it doesn’t dare. Look, how it’s sitting on the table!”

“George Kerr and Thomas Callanger!” said Miss Marshall at that very moment. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, Miss”, answered Geordie.

But Carrie the mouse had been frightened by Miss Marshall’s angry voice. The little animal thought for a moment, then it suddenly hopped down to the aisle. Will tried to catch it, but could not.

Miss Marshall had turned to the blackboard to write down the chapter of the Bible, so she did not notice anything. Carrie the mouse ran along the aisle till it sat by Myra’s desk.

“Oh!” cried Myra. “Oh!” She was quite a brave girl with frogs, but mice had always made her shiver.

“Be quiet!” begged Will, who was tiptoeing down the aisle. “Be quiet, I’ll get it!”

But then Eliza Bell saw Carrie the mouse. And because Eliza Bell was always afraid of everything, she shrieked and climbed on her desk.

“Elizabeth Bell!” said Miss Marshall. “What is it?”

“Oh, Miss — oh, Miss! A mouse!”

Carrie the mouse turned around and flew back. Will tried to call it, but perhaps the girls’ cries and the boys’ laugh frightened it too much — in any case, it ran to Tom and hopped on his knee. There it sat and shivered with all its little body.

Louisa had saw the happening, and because she could imagine a mouse on her own knee, she shouted like a crazy. The panic was complete.

“Put it down! Put it down!” told Geordie, while slipping back to his seat, but it was too late. Miss Marshall hurried down the aisle.

“Thomas Callanger!”

“It’s not mine, Miss!” tried poor Tom. Oh, for heaven’s sake, why just that female creature was not afraid of mice! “It — it just sits here!”

“I can see that”, Miss Marshall said coldly. “Aren’t you ashamed!”

“But it’s not mine!”

“Nonsense. Take it out now, and then come back.”

Tom gave an apologising look to Will, who did not dare to confess Carrie the mouse to be his. Then Tom stood up and carried Carrie to the step.

“Wait here, maybe Will rescues after the school”, he murmured and went back to the classroom.

The panic had gone over. Some girls sobbed, Myra had a hysteric laugh and little Ethel was sitting in her place with scarlet cheeks because of shame, but the others were quiet. They know how angry Miss Marshall could be.

“Come here, Thomas”, Miss Marshall told him behind the teacher’s desk. “Why did you take a mouse with you?”

“I didn’t, Miss.”

“Don’t lie to me. Don’t you know in London how people behave in the Sunday school?”

“It wasn’t my mouse, Miss!” Tom assured. He felt he could have spanked Will. That was all his fault!

“Lieing doesn’t help you. You learn the four first chapters of Genesis by heart till next Sunday. Go to your place.”

Tom bit his lip. He was not so good in learning by heart. But even more painful was to be punished innocently. Without a word he went back to his place.

Louisa had blushed for anger. She knew the mouse was Will’s. Was Will really that kind of a coward?

When the Sunday school was over, Tom was the first to take his Bible and rush out. Luckily Aunt Maggie and Laura were not yet there; he leaned on the wall of the school house and tried to calm down. Carrie the mouse had disappeared.

“Don’t worry.” Geordie put his hand on his shoulder. “I’ll make Will to confess.”

“She didn’t believe my word!”

“She hardly ever believes pupils’ words. Foreget it, hey. Will, come here!”

Will Jameson stepped nearer with a little fear.

“Okay, Will, why didn’t you tell Miss it was your mouse?” asked Geordie. “Everybody, you saw it was Will’s, didn’t you?”

“I saw it”, said Louisa. “Oh, what a baby you are, Will Jameson!”

“I’ve been caught twice with animals in the Sunday school”, stammered Will. “Miss Marshall said she would tell papa if she’d catch me for the third time — and papa would spank me!”

“So you prefer lieing?”

“I didn’t lie!”

“Not confessing while an innocent person is accused because of your deeds is even worse!” cried Myra and shook her head so that the blue ribbon flew to and fro. “You are ugly, Will!”

“Let it be”, said Tom, who was annoyed. “She didn’t believe my word, and she wouldn’t believe yours, either. Let’s go home, I’ll learn the chapters and it’s all right then.”

“No it isn’t”, said Geordie. “She should have suspicied Will in the first place because he’d been caught twice before. But you are a new-comer, and if she now stays with the thought you are a rascal you’ll be a rascal in her eyes until your dying day. We’ll clear that up, that’s what. So, shall you confess, Will Jameson?”

“No!” cried horrified Will.

“Even worse for you.” Geordie stepped nearer. “I’ll spank you first and your papa will finish the job. Is that what you want?”

“Catch me first!” Will turned around and fled along the moorway.

“C’mon!” Geordie cried and rushed after him with the other boys.

“Oh, Tom!” Little Ethel came nearer. “Oh, everything miserable happens to you!”

“That’ll be all right, Geordie is the fastest funner in Lochdu, so there’s no trouble in catching Will”, said Myra. “Geordie’s a good fellow.”

“He told me he’s your beau”, said Tom and looked at Louisa. “I wonder if that’s why he helps me.”

“He’s not my beau”, said Louisa angrily. “And he helps you simply because he likes you, not because of me.”

“Oh, he is your beau!” cried Myra. “He’s written his name on the old birch tree by the bridge and yours under it, so it means he’s going to marry you!”

“He’s not”, cried Louisa. ‘stop that nonsense, Myra. Mommy and Aunty are coming — we must explain this mess.”

The explanation was not very clear, either. But at last Aunt Maggie and Laura understood that Tom had not done something awful, though Miss Marshall thought he had, and the real guilty was probably been caught at that very moment.

“Well, anyway, it’s better to go home now”, said Laura, when Louisa had finished the story. “I’m not sure I did understand everything, but still it’s best that you learn those chapters, Tom. If girls say you’re innocent you must be, but maybe Miss Marshall doesn’t believe it.”

“She’s such a fast-and-wrong”, hissed Aunt Maggie. “Let’s get home.”

“I could spank Miss Marshall”, murmured little Ethel, when she was sure Aunty and Mommy could not hear her.

Chapter Two: Tom and the Tragedy

“It isn’t so nice to have all your world turned upside down in a wink”, said Louisa that night, when she was in the kitchen washing potatoes for the supper. “What do you know about him, Aunty?”

“Nothing”, murmured Aunt Maggie while setting fire on the oven. “He’s son of your mother’s childhood friend.”

“Mommy told me he’s been ill.”

“Aye, he’s had a bad cold. And Cristen Callanger wrote he’s a weak fellow — grown up in London and so on. I can never understand women who marry Englishmen.”

“I thing it’d be very exciting to live in London. Well, it may be fine to have a ‘brother’ for a while.”

“For a while!” Aunt Maggie stood up and took the plates from the cupboard. ‘myra! Come here, lassie, and make the table! Yes, for a while, but Thomas Callanger will stay here the whole summer. And I bet he cannot even work, if you ask me!”

It was very serious when Aunt Maggie said, “I bet”. Louisa stopped washing the potatoes and thought.

“Is he rich?” he then asked.

“I don’t know exactly. Take these plates, Myra. But his mother wrote something like ‘I know you have troubles with money’, so I think they’re going to pay for him. And so there’s even more reason to believe he can’t even make his bed!”

“How old is he?” asked Myra while putting the plates on the kitchen table. In everyday life the MacDonalds never ate in the dining-room.

“Thirteen, as far as I know. Tomorrow! Why, in heaven’s name, couldn’t Cristen Callanger write a week before!” Aunt Maggie splashed the potatoes into the pot. “Now Laura must run her feet off when doing the room! Those women who marry Englishmen never think.”

“Wow, if he’s thirteen I guess Geordie Kerr will be jealous!” said Myra. “Of course this Tomas will be your beau, Louisa!”

“Shut up”, cried Louisa. “I don’t want any beau, I hate lads!”

“It’s not suitable for young girls to speak that way”, said Aunt Maggie. “Where’s Ethel?”

“Helping Mommy with the room. Why he has to come just now? The holiday has just begun, and now the whole summer will be spoiled.” Myra sighed. “I promised Annie Weilson I’d make a play house with her, but now I must serve the guest all the time, I think!”

“Stop moaning now. If you have nothing to do, you can go and clean your flower beds. I passed them in the morning and saw not much flowers, if you ask me. Hurry up!”

The sisters looked at each other and, because there was not much choice, walked through the house to the little garden. Once it had been a great park with sandy paths and a summer house, but the village people had rented the lands and only some stones were left from the summer house. And the Orchard behind the Wood, of course.

By those stones were the flower beds. Louisa and Myra looked at them and sighed. None of them liked gardening — Louisa preferred dreams and romantic walks, Myra playing with her dolls. Only Ethel’s bed was fine, because she enjoyed this kind of little work.

“Well, I guess we have to do it”, Louisa said. “I really don’t want that fine London boy to come and think we Scots are untidy. Especially we MacDonalds.”

This idea gave strength to Myra, too, and they both kneeled by the poor flowers which hardly lived anymore.

Next morning all the family was at the Glennari station. There was no railway station at the village of Lochdu, so they had to come over with the carriage.

“When the train’s coming?” asked Myra for fourth time. “It can’t be late that much!”

“It isn’t late a bit”, snapped Aunt Maggie. ‘my, you’re enthusiastic — yesterday I heard a little girl tell the boy would spoil her whole summer!”

“Don’t be mean, Aunty. I’d be happy for his visit if he’d leave after a week ar two, and now I’m trying to think he will leave. Why he’s coming just here, Mommy?”

“Because he needs fresh country air and his mother was my best friend. Stop hopping that way, Myra o’mine. It doesn’t suit when you have that hat on.” Mother smiled. Myra had wanted to wear her large straw hat with three silk rosettes and some paper flowers. It was a ridiculous thing, made for a play where Myra had acted a fine lady, and she had lost her heart for it. Once Aunt Maggie had tried to burn it in silence, but Myra had arrived in the kitchen just in the nick of the time, and did not speak to her Aunt a week since. Now she was holding her head up like with a crown, though the other people on the station smiled.

“I’m happy he’s coming”, said little Ethel. “Aren’t you, Louisa, after all? Maybe he’d like to hear your stories. When one’s ill one likes just to lie down and listen stories.”

“Maybe that”, agreed Louisa. “Now, the train’s coming, I can see the smoke!”

The train came slowly forwards and then stopped with a whistle. Aunt Maggie took Myra’s hand, because she was afraid the girl would get lost in the buzzle of people, but Myra had her feelings hurt and tore her hand off.

“As if I was a baby!” she hissed by herself.

Quite a many people came off the train in Glennari. The last to come was a tall, slender boy in a coffee-coloured suit and a hat. He was very pale, and the short, black hair made his face even more colourless.

“Thomas Callanger?” Mrs MacDonald stepped to him. “Welcome!”

“Thank you. I’m — I’m glad you came for me.” The boy blushed when Mrs MacDonald kissed him.

“Of course we did. I’m Margaret MacDonald, Laura’s sister-in-law.” Aunt Maggie pushed Ethel forwards.

“These are the girls, Ethel, Myra, and… Louisa, come here at once! You mustn’t speak with unknown people — especially not with men!”

“What’s wrong with men?” Louisa said while coming from the station master, who was an old and funny man and knew many stories.

“This is Louisa”, said Laura. “Now, we must look after you luggage. Maggie, can you take the children to the carriage?”

Thomas seemed to be shy. Louisa looked at him while they went through the station building to the yard where their horse, Donna, was eating fresh green grass before the carriage. Once it had been a fine carriage, with which Angus MacDonald had taken his young wife to Five Cherry Trees, but now the paintings had gone, and though neat, it was a bit shabby. But Thomas did not say anything about it.

When all his luggage had been packed behind the carriage, Aunt Maggie took the reins and Laura climbed to sit on her side. The children sat between them and the luggage. They did not have much room, and Myra’s hat took a quarter of it.

“Please take that awful thing off”, begged Louisa. ‘the wind will take it anyway, or the needles on the paper flowers stick our eyes.”

“I won’t. All the fine ladies have a hat during a drive. Mommy has, too.”

“It’s a small one.” Louisa glanced carefully at Thomas. He smiled a little — maybe he would have liked to laugh at the country girls!

“Stop quarrelling, girls”, said Aunt Maggie.

There was a complete silence in the carriage for a while. Thomas watched around him — they drove along a narrow road, and where ever he looked, he could see only mountains or heather-covered moors. But the sky was bright, and at last they drove to a lime wood where the sun peeped through the gleaming leaves, and air was cool and refredshing. He had a long breath. Maybe mother was right after all — maybe he could get beter here. But three girls, that really was more than a fellow could bear.

Though nice they looked. The smallest watched him and smiled so shyly and joyfully he had to smile back. The one with that ludicrous head thing held her nose up as if she had been coming from Buckingham Palace, but sometimes, when a carriage wheel hit a stone, she had to grabble her hat in the middle of its way to the dusty road. And the eldest was pretty, yes, indeed. Tom had always liked girls with thick plait, maybe because his nanny had one.

“That’s Lochdu”, said Ethel and blushed. “there’s not a long way left.”

“I’d drive even longer”, said Tom. “There’s so beautiful in here.”

“Scotland is the most beautiful place in the world”, Louisa said softly. “You must stay up some night and see how the summer night comes over the hills — she has a dim veil which covers the whole earth, but not wholly — you can see everything, though only through the veil.”

Tom looked at her and grinned. But it was a friendly grin, and Louisa liked it.

“There’s Five Cherry Trees”, said Laura MacDonald at that very moment, and Aunt Maggie stopped the carriage before the front door. “Jump off, children, and help me to take the luggage off.”

Tom had always been called “master”, but that “children” sounded so familiar and motherly that he obeyed as well as the girls.

When they went into the hall and Tom took his hat off, Myra punched Louisa, Really, he was the best-looking boy they had ever seen.

“Not bad, and he still is half-a-Scot, if you ask me”, muttered Aunt Maggie, when she hurried into kitchen to boil some water for tea with her shawl.

“Now, I’ll show you your room, so you can wash yourself and have a little rest before tea”, said Laura. “Get off your Sunday bests, girls, before they’ll get dirty.”

Ethel looked at her muslin dress and sighed. She had secretly wished she could have worn it all day long.

“Hurry up, lassies”, shouted Aunt Maggie from the kitchen. “Change your clothes and come then to help me.”

At the same time Laura opened one door by the upstairs corridor and let Tom in.

“This room is yours. I hope you enjoy it. Now, I leave you, but in the first place — shall we call you Thomas?”

“Mother wants me to be called Thomas, but I prefer Tom. My nanny uses Tom when mother can’t hear.” The boy looked guilty. “And, please, let me help with the chores. My father told me to help as much as I ever can, but mother said I must only rest.”

“You can help as much as you have strength to”, promised Laura. “But you must play, too, as the girls do. There’s many boys in Lochdu, so I’m sure you’ll have friends here. One of the girls will come up and call you for tea, when it’s ready.” Laura shut the door, and Tom sat on the edge of the bed.

It was a nice, light room with two large windows. Between them was a tall looking-glass with washing-stand, and by the wide bed a little table for reading-lamp and a glass of water. On the table before one of the windows was another lamp, and there was a bookshelf, too, though now empty, just waiting for his books.

Tom seemed satisfied. He would like this room. He had been afraid of a female chamber with laces and rosettes and soft carpets, but this one was almost like father’s room in their London house. Father had never liked fancy halls, like mother.

Tom had just washed dust from his face and was standing before the other window, when the door was knocked and the girl with the thick plait peeped in.

“Tea’s ready”, she said. “And then you must have your luggage taken upstairs.”

“Of course.” Tom turned around. “You are Louisa, aren’t you?”

“Aye. Mommy said we can call you Tom.” Louisa stepped into the room. “You must come quickly, before the cakes get cold. In that case Aunty never forgives you.”

Tom laughed and came to the door.

“I’m sure I want her forgiveness.”

The tea table was ready in the dining-room — this was a special situation — and Aunt Maggie served the tea, while Laura asked Tom about his mother.

“Well, she hasn’t changed much, I suppose”, she said at last. “When we were little girls in Oban she used to dream about a rich man who would fill every wish of hers. Now, who’s coming over? Is it Mrs Macaulay?”

“Can’t be”, said Aunt Maggie. “It was only yesterday, when she said she’ll never step into this house again.”

“The frog wasn’t enough”, murmured Ethel. “Next time we must find some bees.”

“Be quiet, lassie.” Laura rose to have another cup. “She’s so curious she cannot stay away. You’ll be a great wonder here in Lochdu, poor Tom! Now, children, take the bread and cakes with you and go to the summer stones. Mrs Macaulay can wait a little.”

With a giggle the girls took their meal and teacups and rushed into the garden followed by Tom, who had no idea which was meant with the name “the summer stones”.

“There was a summer house once”, said Myra, when they sat on the stones by the flower beds — luckily they had been cleaned! “But now only the stones are left, so we call them summer stones.”

“That’s very practical, admitted Tom. “What’s the story about the frog and this madam?”

“Louisa may tell you, said Ethel with a voice which told it was a great honour for Tom to hear Louisa telling.

While Louisa did tell, Mrs Macaulay stepped into Five Cherry Trees. She was a tall, fat woman, who seemed to fill every room she came in.

“Laura, my dear, how are you?” she asked, as if she had not been over a day before.

“Fine, thanks. That’s surprise, I thought you wouldn’t visit us after the little joke of the girls.”

“Joke, indeed! Well, children are children. And when I saw you driving through the village with that boy — what’s his name?”

“Thomas Callanger.”

“Anyway, I thought I have to come over to give you some good pieces of advice. You see, Laura, you have never brought up a lad — I have had five. So you must understand there’s some difference.”

“Wouldn’t you like a cup of tea, Moira?” asked Aunt Maggie. “We were just drinking.”

“Ah, thank you… But where are the children?” Mrs Macaulay sat down while looking carefully around — maybe another frog would jump from under the table.

“I told them to go and have their tea in the garden, so they can get acquainted faster.” Laura MacDonald sat down, too. “I hope they will be good friends.”

Suddenly they heard an enormous crash in the garden. Mrs Macaulay was almost suffocated with her tea, Aunt Maggie dropped a piece of cake into her hem and Laura flew up.

“What’s going on?” she cried and ran to the garden.

The children stood before the summer stones and looked very, very guilty. On the stones and the ground before them Laura saw her tea-cups — or pieces which had once been tea-cups.

“We had a competition”, confessed Louisa. “The one who wouldn’t hit the dishes with a stone would win… Tom lost.”

“I’m awfully sorry, ma’am”, said Tom with a shivering voice. “Really, I didn’t mean… I’m sure father will buy you new ones.”

Laura had bowed down and taken some pieces on her hand. Her engagement cups — the cups Angus had bought her, cups of the finest old-fashioned china.

“I’m afraid you cannot buy that like cups anywhere”, she whispered and tried to hold her tears. “Well, it’s no use to cry over spilled milk.”

“That’s fine, indeed!” sniffed Mrs Macaulay, who had followed Laura to the garden. “And let the children have real china outdoors, well, I wouldn’t have thought even you so stupid, Laura MacDonald! And that lad — half-English, that’s what!”

“No, he’s half-a-Scot”, snapped Aunt Maggie. “Come in and finish your tea, Moira. I’m sorry, we’ll have a busy day, but maybe you’ll drop in some better time.”

“Are you going to drive me out, Margaret MacDonald?”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Hurry up!” Aunt Maggie said, as if Mrs Macaulay had been one of the girls.

Laura picked the pieces of china into the hem of her skirt and stepped in. She did not dare to look at the children — they could have seen tears in her eyes. In the kitchen she put the broken cups on the table, sat by it and burst into tears.

The door was opened, then a hand was put on her shoulder.

“Ma’am… I’m so sorry. If I could do anything…”

Laura lifted her head and tried to smile to Tom.

“No, darling, I’m a fool when crying, but… Oh, those cups were the first thing my husband bought me after the ring… They’ve been my treasure for fifteen years… It was my fault, dearie, I shouldn’t have put them on the table in the first place. But your mother liked them so much… Don’t worry, I’ll forget them. God doesn’t want us to cry for broken things.

“Oh… oh ma’am!” Tom kneeled before her. “I — I was such a fool when taking the stone… But I didn’t think they would be broken… It was childlish… Please, ma’am, forgive me!” He put his black-curlied head on her hem and cried so that his narrow shoulders shivered. “I understand, if you want to send me back now!”

“I don’t want to send you back”, said Laura tenderly. “Don’t cry now. And, for heaven’s sake, don’t call my ‘ma’am”! You are not our hired boy. Now, stop it. Crying that way cannot make any good to your health.”

“I’m so unhappy!” sobbed Tom. “I like you — mother has always told me so much about you — and now you must hate me!”

“I don’t hate you, you dear wee fool! Stop the crying now. Well, that’s better.” Laura smoothed his gleaming hair. “The cups are broken, but maybe I can make some of them all right with glue. Of course one cannot use them for drinking anymore, but I’d like to have them as memories. Here’s a handkerchief, darling.”

Tom took it and used it very hard.

“Mother always says I’m like a girl — she says men never cry”, he muttered with a shame.

“Nonsense. A real good fellow can cry as well as laugh. Now, we’ll get your luggage upstairs.” Laura stood up.

“Ma’am… I mean, how I’ll call you?” Tom asked.

“How would you like call me? Maybe just ‘Laura’ would be best.”

“Yes ma… Laura.” Tom grinned a little. “Oh, I forgot — mother put some presents in my chest for all of you. Is that woman gone?”

“If you mean Mrs Macaulay, I can see her stampering down on the way to Lochdhu. Maggie spanked her quite a bit.”

“Spanked?”

“Just in spirit. Where are the girls?” Laura opened the kitchen door. “Come here, I’m not angry. Tom has something to show us.”