One morning, by reason of neglecting his teeth, and a few other toilet details, he was able to be downstairs ten minutes before breakfast, and spent the time in the kitchen, plaguing Mrs. M"Cosh to let him write an inscription in her Bible.
"What wud ye write?" she asked suspiciously.
"I would write," said Mhor--"I would write, "From Gervase Taunton to Mrs. M"Cosh.""
"That wud be a lee," said Mrs. M"Cosh, "for I got it frae ma sister Annie, her that"s in Australia. Here see, there"s a post-caird for ye.
It"s a rale nice yin.--Sauchiehall Street, Glasgow. There"s Annackers"
shope as plain"s plain."
Mhor looked discontentedly at the offering. "I wish," he said slowly--"I wish I had a post-card of a hippopotamus being sick."
"Ugh, you want unnaitural post-cairds. Think on something wise-like, like a guid laddie."
Mhor considered. "If you give me a sheet of paper and an envelope I might write to the Lion at the Zoo."
For the sake of peace Mrs. M"Cosh produced the materials, and Mhor sat down at the table, his elbows spread out, his tongue protruding. He had only managed "Dear Lion," when Jean called him to go upstairs and wash his teeth and get a clean handkerchief.
The sun was shining into the dining-room, lighting up the blue china on the dresser, and catching the yellow lights in Jean"s hair.
"What a silly morning for November," growled Jock. "What"s the sun going on shining like that for? You"d think it thought it was summer."
"In winter," said Mhor, "the sky should always be grey. It"s more suitable."
"What a couple of ungrateful creatures you are," Jean said; "I"m ashamed of you. And as it happens you are going to have a great treat because of the good day. I didn"t tell you because I thought it would very likely pour. Cousin Lewis said if it was a good day he would send the car to take us to Laverlaw to luncheon. It"s really because of Pamela; she has never been there. So you must ask to get away at twelve, Jock, and I"ll go up with Pamela and collect Mhor."
Mhor at once left the table and, without making any remark, stood on his head on the hearthrug. Thus did his joy find vent. Jock, on the other hand, seemed more solemnised than gleeful.
"That"s the first time I"ve ever had a prayer answered," he announced.
"I couldn"t do my Greek last night, and I prayed that I wouldn"t be at the cla.s.s--and I won"t be. Gosh, Maggie!"
"Oh, Jock," his sister protested, "that"s not what prayers are for."
"Mebbe not, but I"ve managed it this time," and, unrepentant, Jock started on another slice of bread and b.u.t.ter.
Jean told Pamela of Jock"s prayer as they went together to fetch Mhor from school.
"But Mhor is a much greater responsibility than Jock. You know where you are with Jock: underneath is a bedrock of pure goodness. You see, we start with the enormous advantage of having had forebears of the very decentest--not great, not n.o.ble, but men who feared G.o.d and honoured the King--men who lived justly and loved mercy. It would be most uncalled for of us to start out on bypaths with such a straight record behind us.
But Mhor, bless him, is different. I haven"t a notion what went to the making of him. I seem to see behind him a long line of men and women who danced and laughed and gambled and feasted, light-hearted, charming people. I sometimes think I hear them laugh as I teach Mhor _What is the chief end of man?_ ... I couldn"t love Mhor more if he really were my little brother, but I know that my hold over him is of the frailest.
It"s only now that I have him. I must make the most of the present--the little boy days--before life takes him away from me."
"You will have his heart always," Pamela comforted her. "He won"t forget. He has been rooted and grounded in love."
Jean winked away the tears that had forced their way into her eyes, and laughed.
"I"m bringing him up a Presbyterian. I did try him with the Creed. He listened politely, and said carelessly, "It all seems rather sad--Pilate is a nice name, but not Pontius." Then Jock laughed at him learning, "What is your name, A or B?" and Mhor himself preferred to go to the root of the matter with our Shorter Catechism, and answer n.o.bly if obscurely--_Man"s chief end is to glorify G.o.d and to enjoy Him for ever_. Indeed, he might be Scots in his pa.s.sion for theology. The other night he went to bed very displeased with me, and said, "You needn"t read me any more of that narsty Bible," but when I went up to say good-night he greeted me with, "_How_ can I keep the commandments when I can"t even remember what they are?" ... This is Mhor"s school, or rather Miss Main"s school."
They went up the steps of a pretty, creeper-covered house.
"It once belonged to an artist," Jean explained. "There is a great big light studio at the back which makes an ideal schoolroom. It"s an ideal school altogether. Miss Main and her young stepsister are born teachers, full of humour and understanding, as well as being brilliantly clever--far too clever really for this job; but if they don"t mind we needn"t complain. They get the children on most surprisingly, and teach them all sorts of things outside their lessons. Mhor is always astonishing me with his information about things going on in the world.... Yes, do come in. They won"t mind. You would like to see the children."
"I would indeed. But won"t Miss Main object to us interrupting--"
Miss Main at once rea.s.sured her on that point, and said that both she and the scholars loved visitors. She took them into the large schoolroom where twenty small people of various sizes sat with their books, very cheerfully imbibing knowledge.
Mhor and another small boy occupied one desk.
Jean greeted the small boy as "Sandy," and asked him what he was studying at that moment.
"I don"t know," said Sandy.
"Sandy," said Miss Main, "don"t disgrace your teachers. You know you are learning the multiplication table. What are three times three?"
Sandy merely looked coy.
"Mhor?"
"Six," said Mhor, after some thought.
"Hopeless," said Miss Main. "Come and speak to my sister Elspeth, Miss Reston."
"My sister Elspeth" was a tall, fair girl with merry blue eyes.
"Do you teach the Mhor?" Pamela asked her.
"I have that honour," said Miss Elspeth, and began to laugh. "He always arrives full of ideas. This morning he had thought out a plan to stop the rain. The sky, he said, must be gone over with glue, but he gave it up when he remembered how sticky it would be for the angels.... He has the most wonderful feeling for words of any child I ever taught. He can"t, for instance, bear to hear a Bible story told in everyday language. The other children like it broken down to them, but Mhor pleads for "the real words." He likes the swing and majesty of them....
I was reading them Kipling"s story, _Servants of the Queen_, the other day. You know where it makes the oxen speak of the walls of the city falling, "and the dust went up as though many cattle were coming home."
I happened to look up, and there was Mhor with lamps lit in those wonderful green eyes of his, gazing at me. He said, "I like that bit.
It"s a nice bit. I think it should be at the end of a sad story." And he uses words well himself, have you noticed? The other day he came and thrust a dead field-mouse into my hand. I squealed and dropped it, and he said, "Afraid? And of such a calm little gentleman?""
Pamela asked if Mhor"s behaviour was good.
"Only fair," said pretty Miss Elspeth. "He always means to be good, but he is inhabited by an imp of mischief that prompts him to do the most improbable things. He certainly doesn"t make for peace in the school, but he keeps "a body frae languor." I like a naughty boy myself much better than a good one. He"s the "more natural beast of the twain.""
Outside, with the freed Mhor capering before them, Pamela was enthusiastic over the little school and its mistresses.
"Miss Main looks like an old miniature, with her white hair and her delicate colouring, and is wise and kind and sensible as well; and as for that daffodil girl, Elspeth, she is a sheer delight."
"Yes," Jean agreed. "Hasn"t she charming manners? It is so good for the children to be with her. She is so polite to them that they can"t be anything but gentle and considerate in return. Heaps of girls would think school-marming very dull, but Elspeth makes it into a sort of daily entertainment. They manage, she and her sister, to make the dullest child see some glimmer of reason in learning lessons. I do wish I had had a teacher like that. I had a governess who taught me like a parrot. She had no notion how to make the dry bones live. I thought I scored by learning as little as I possibly could. The consequence is I"m almost entirely illiterate.... There"s the car waiting, and Jock prancing impatiently. Run in for your thick coat, Mhor. No, you can"t take Peter. He chased sheep last time and fought the other dogs and made himself a nuisance."
Mhor was now pleading that he might sit in the front beside the chauffeur and cry "Honk, honk," as they went round corners.
"Well," said Jean, "choose whether it will be going or coming back. Jock must sit there one time."
Mhor, as he always did, grasped the pleasure of the moment, and clambered into the seat beside the chauffeur, an old and valued friend, whom he greeted familiarly as "Tam."
The road to Laverlaw ran through the woods behind Peel, dipped into the Manor Valley and, emerging, made straight for the hills, which closed down round it as though jealous of the secrets they guarded. It seemed to a stranger as if the road led nowhere, for nothing was to be seen for miles except bare hillsides and a brawling burn. Suddenly the road took a turn, a white bridge spanned the noisy Laverlaw Water, and there at the opening of a wide, green glen stood the house.
Lewis Elliot was waiting at the doorstep to greet them. He had been out all morning, and with him were his two dogs, Rab and Wattie. Jock and Mhor threw themselves on them with many-endearing names, before they even looked at their host.