"He might well say 'so long,'" she said to herself, an hour later, as she sat on the battlements of Castle Maclean. "Looked at in the abstract, as a period of time, three months is a pretty fair sample of the commodity!" Thus does, the feminine mind, while striving to grasp the abstract, fall back inevitably into the concrete! "As a man," said Mona, "he is not a patch upon the Sahib; but I never had such a playfellow in my life!" CHAPTER XXI. THE FLYING SCOTCHMAN. "What do you think, my dear?" said Rachel, a few days later, with beaming face. "I have just had a letter from my niece. Would you like to hear it?" "Very much," said Mona, "'First Impressions of a New Continent.' Is it the first you have had?" "No, it's the second. She's no great hand at the letter-writing. But there's more 'impressions' in this. She says the difficulty of getting servants is beyond everything." Rachel proceeded to read the epistle: and for once Mona found herself in absolute accord with her cousin. Rachel's niece was certainly "no great hand at the letter-writing." It was evening, and Mona had just come in from a stroll in the twilight. She did not often go out after tea, but there was no denying the fact that the last few days had not been very lively ones, and that physical exercise had become more desirable than ever. She had not realised, till he was gone, that Dr Dudley's occasional companionship made any appreciable difference in the world at Borrowness; but she did not now hesitate for a moment to acknowledge the truth to herself. "It is almost as if I had lost Doris or Lucy," she said; "and of course, in a place like this, sympathetic companionship is at a premium. One might go into a melancholia here over the loss of an intelligent dog or a favourite canary. The fact that so many women have fallen in love throws a lurid light on the lives they must have led. Poor souls! I will write to Tilbury to-morrow to send me my little box of books. Two hours' hard reading a day is a panacea for most things." With this wholesome resolution she returned from her walk, to find Rachel in a state of beatification over her niece's letter. "I declare I quite forgot," she said; "there's a parcel and letter for you too. I think you'll find them on the chair by the door." "Nothing of much interest," said Mona; "at least I don't know the handwriting on either. A begging-letter, I expect." She proceeded to open the parcel first, untying the knot very deliberately, and speculating vaguely as to the cause of the curious damp smell about the wrappings. "Fancy Ruching" in gilt letters on one end of the box was apparently a misleading title; for, when the cover was removed, a mass of damp vegetation came to view. Rachel lifted her hands in horror. The idea of bringing caterpillars and earwigs and the like of that into the house! On the top of the box lay a sheet of moist writing-paper folded lengthwise. Mona took it up.