That was a great day for Joey Graham, aged thirteen years and three months, for Mr. Craigie's gift was hampered by no restrictions. She proudly stood lunch to all the rest, _and_ tipped the waiter--a seedy gentleman with a good deal of limp and dingy shirt-front, who was nevertheless an adept at putting cruets, Worcester sauce bottles, etc., over the stains on the tablecloth of the little back-street restaurant where they partook largely of sausages and mashed potatoes, limp pastry and ginger-wine, with Joey hospitably urging them on to further efforts. Even Gavin the Winchester "man" was no greater in the eyes of his family that day! There had been very little time for inconvenient thoughts of possible home-sickness to obtrude themselves during those bustling days of preparation. Of course it would be strange to have two days' journey between herself and Mums and the rest, Joey knew; but people who have won a scholarship don't go in for being home-sick. Besides, there would be Miss Craigie, Mr. Craigie's sister--mathematical mistress at Redlands and a ready-made friend, Joey was comfortably sure. So she made her own final preparations very cheerfully, and helped Mums--rather stickily--with the getting ready of Ronnie's shirts and stockings for his plunge a week later into Gavin's old preparatory; and said good-bye and thank you to the schoolmaster and to Effie and Ailie, the sawmiller's twin girls, who sat next her in class; and to Luckie Jean, who unbent to an extraordinary degree and presented a whole bag of "sweeties" at parting; and was finally seen off at Crumach by the entire family, with an old military portmanteau that had been Father's, and a bewildering quantity of new clothes in it. Mums went with her to the junction at Pettalva; from there she was to travel in the care of the guard to Edinburgh, where Miss Craigie would meet her and take her down to Redlands next day. Mums and Joey both found a tendency to leave little gaps in the conversation, as the roofs of Pettalva began to come in sight. "I shall try to find someone who is going the whole way to Edinburgh, darling," Mums said, after one of those gaps. "Then I shall feel quite happy about you." "I'll be all right anyway," Joey said determinedly. "Yes, my Joey, I know you will; but everything, including the travelling, will be a little--new." "I know Mums. Don't you worry; _I_ shan't," Joey persisted, though the roofs of Pettalva were rather blurred just then. "I know it will be new, but I'm going to like Redlands awfully, and write you reams of letters, so you won't be dull--and--and"--Joey swallowed a lump in her throat--"there won't be such a heap of stockings for you to mend, anyhow." They two were alone in the compartment; Mums caught Joey in her arms and held on to her tight. "Oh, my Joey, I _like_ mending the stockings!" she cried, with a little sob in her voice, and then she tried to laugh.