Ann caught the Tatler in her arms and sank with it into the depths of an arm-chair. "There's something exceedingly nice about being a spinster. Here's Marget. I shall ask her what she thinks. Marget, you don't regret being a spinster, do you?" Marget came farther into the room and peered suspiciously at Ann in the arm-chair with the cat in her arm. "Ye're no' gaun to pit it doon in writin' are ye? Weel, that's a' richt. To tell the truth I hadna muckle encouragement to be onything else. I wasna juist a'thegither negleckit, but I never had a richt offer. But lookin' roond I've often been thankfu' I wasna trachled wi' a man. Ye see, livin' a' ma life wi' kin o' better folk I wad ha' taken ill wi' a man sittin' in his stockin' feet and spittin' into the fire. Genteel service spoils ye; but, of course, a'body's no sae particlar.... Mysie, the monkey, hes gotten a lawd." "What did I say," Ann cried. "Who is he, Marget?" "His name's Jim Stoddart, a dacent lawd and no sae gawky as maist o' them. He was an officer's servant in the war, and learned mainners." "But, Marget," said Mrs. Douglas, "we're so far away from people here--how did Mysie meet him?" "Tuts, Mem, let a lassie alane for that. If there's a 'come hither' in the e'e the lawd 'll turn up, though he has to tramp miles o' heather and hard road. I never kent hoo lassies did thon. I used often to watch them and wonder, but I could niver learn--I was aye a muckle hoose-end even as a lassie, an' tricks wad hev ill become me." "It's a wise woman that knows her limitations," said Ann. "I wish we were all wise enough to avoid being arch--Marget, I've finished Mother's _Life_.'" Marget immediately dropped into a convenient chair. "Let's hear it," she said. "What! Now?" "What for no? Is't that lang?" "Long?" said Ann; "like the White Knight's song, but very beautiful!" "Aw, if ye're gaun to haver." Marget turned to her mistress. "What's it like, Mem?" "I don't know, Marget, I've hardly seen a word of it, but it will certainly have to be censored before you get it typed, Ann." "Oh yes," said Ann. "You will read it and 'riddle oot the biggest lees frae ilka page,' and then I'll send it to the typing lady Mark told me about; if she can make out Mark's handwriting she won't be so aghast at mine. One copy for each of ourselves and some for very great friends----" Mrs. Douglas broke in. "If you begin with friends there will be no end to it." "Then, perhaps, we had better have it privately printed and get about a hundred copies. Have we a hundred friends?" "Liker twa hunner," Marget said gloomily. "To me it seems a queer like thing to print a body's life when she's still leevin'." Ann quoted, "That horn is blowen for me," said Balin, "yet I am not dead," then, laughing at the expression on Marget's face, she said, "It's often done, Marget, only you call it 'reminiscences.' Mrs. Asquith wrote her reminiscences, and you can't accuse her of being dead."