The postman did not come to Calgarloch. People fetched their letters, when they expected any, from the little post office at Crumach; but the Grahams thought that no hardship; a walk over the corner of the moor, and across the lower shoulder of the hills that lay between Calgarloch and Crumach, was always fun, especially if there were anything to spend in the town. But to-day the comparative merits of bull's-eyes and pear-drops seemed unimportant; they were all thinking of the letter. Ronnie dropped behind with Joey when the shoe-laces were finished with, and the party ready to go on. "If you get it, I could go to Christopher's this term," he said. "You know Christopher told Mums there was the one vacancy, and he'd keep it on the chance, because of Gav having done so well." "Yes, and if you got a Winchester Scholarship like Gav has, in three and a half years, Kirsty would only be twelve just--heaps of time for coming on to Redlands," Joey remarked hopefully, and then, as a wave of doubt swept over her: "But I'll never get it--out of seven hundred and eighty-two girls. I went some awful howlers, I know." "P'r'aps the others did too," suggested Ronnie. "I'm afraid Mums will mind if I fail," Joey said. "Of course she'll pretend she doesn't, and say all she cares about is my trying--but she won't take us in with her dearness." "'Course not; but you'll have to let her think she does," Ronnie announced, from the depths of past experience, and then he and Joey were silent while they plodded round the shoulder of the hill, and dropped down into Crumach. Ahead Gavin could be heard gaily discoursing to Kirsty and Bingo on the Homeric exploits of Winchester "men"; but then it was different for Gavin. He had won his scholarship. Either the shoe-laces had taken longer than the children had expected, or the gold hunting-watch had not been entirely reliable, for it was fully four o'clock when they turned at last into the main street of Crumach. Gavin stopped and waited for the other two. "The post'll be in. We'd better go to Luckie Jean's first, and get Mums' things after." As a matter of fact one got a good many of the "things" at Luckie Jean's, though Mums had a certain odd favouritism for the newly established grocer at Pettalva, who sent a cart in twice a week to Crumach and had biscuits that were really fresh. But the family plumped to a man for Luckie Jean. True, the fingers with which she ladled out your provisions were snuff-stained and not over-well acquainted with soap and water; but the recesses of her shop were so dark and mysterious, her goods so various and unexpected, and, best of all, her stories were so thrilling that no ordinary shopman who drove a cart could dream of comparing with her. The family trooped joyfully in a body to Luckie Jean's forthwith.