This was just what Miss Esperance wanted. All her life she had been used to horses, and she stepped up to the sweating, trembling, plunging mare, laid a small, firm hand fearlessly upon her bridle, and spoke so soothingly and gently that Moggie ceased to plunge and in a few minutes was standing quiet, though trembling, with the cart still blocking the road. "Which way do you want her to go and I’ll turn her for you," she called to Sandie. "_He_ wants to go home, Aunt Espa’nce, but we don’t. We’d much rather go on. D’you mind if we go on for a little more drive?" And the amazed Miss Esperance looked up to perceive her great-nephews and Robina perched up in Sandie’s cart. Sandie was crimson and confused: Robina, pale and tearful: the little boys bright-eyed and rosy with excitement. "Robina!" Miss Esperance ejaculated, in deepest displeasure. "What are you doing there with the children? Come down at once while the horse is quiet." Hastily and ungracefully Robina scrambled out of the cart and the little boys were handed down by Sandie, both deeply disappointed that their "hurrl" had come to this untimely end. Edmund was not one to conceal his feelings at any time, and he forthwith began to roar so lustily that further discussion was impossible, especially as Mause considered it incumbent upon her to bark loudly in joy at this unexpected reunion. Miss Esperance packed all three into her pony tub, dismissing Davie to walk home and bring the perambulator. Moggie was the only one who scored, for she was driven off without delay in the direction she had all along wanted to go, and she went like the wind. "What," asked Montagu of his aunt some days later, "is a Piskey?" Miss Esperance drew her delicate eyebrows together. "Where have you heard the word?" she inquired in her turn. "Robina said Mr. Wycherly’s a Piskey, and I want to know what it is." "Robina," said Miss Esperance, "is rather apt to talk about things she does not understand. ’Piskey,’ my dear Montagu, is a vulgar way of saying Episcopalian, and the English form of worship is called by that name in Scotland. I beg that you will not let me hear the word, ’Piskey,’ again." "I think it’s rather a nice little word," Montagu retorted; "short and cheerful-sounding. I suppose we’re Presbeys?" "Abbreviations," said Miss Esperance, "are nearly always foolish and often in bad taste. I have never heard of a Presbey in my life." "Piskey and Presbey were two pretty men," Montagu murmured dreamily, with a hazy recollection of some nursery rhyme, "though I think Piskey’s far prettier than Presbey, just like Mr. Wycherly’s prettier than Mr. Gloag." "That will do, Montagu." "D’you love Sandie, Aunt Esp’ance?" Montagu asked with an abrupt change of subject. "Certainly not," Miss Esperance answered hastily, "though I believe him to be a well-doing young man on the whole."