"No temptation to attract one off one's couch. A never-ending panorama of colour and light and beautiful scenery before one's eyes. No rent to pay." "No servants to employ." "A home of one's own—I have known Loch Tarlie since I was six— milk and butter and chickens all to hand. Ted asserts I want nothing else." "No newspapers, to make one realize that England is going, or has gone, to the dogs." "And life-giving, intoxicating moor air to make one feel glad every day of one's life that one is alive!" "Yes, Geraldine, I am going and will stick it out for the winter there. Old Granny Mactavish is as spry and active as a girl. If she can stand the winter, why shouldn't I? And oh, do you think old Niddy-Noddy would let me transfer my mattress to a boat? Think of my lying on a silver loch watching the trout and salmon leap and flash by! Perhaps with Granny's nephew, Colin, by my side, we could fish between us. Ted, is your mouth watering? And will you write by this evening's post and tell Granny I will have my bed made up in the green drawing-room, with windows down to the floor? I shall feel out-of-doors at once." "You will want books," said Ted gravely. "I'll order a box from Mudie's to go down with you, and I say, Rowena, there's a first-rate travel book by a chap I knew in the war. He's a humorous sort of fellow, with keen powers of observation. It's about the Frontier up in Afghanistan. You must read it. I was dipping into it to-day at the club, and Murchison, who was reading it, said—" "Ted, get off books this instant," said Geraldine, "and let us discuss the question of Loch Tarlie. How will Rowena get up there, and who will go with her? And she cannot live alone with old Granny Mactavish. We have always taken our own maids up there and a chauffeur. Rowena must have a nice maid to attend upon her." "No, thanks—not if I know it! I couldn't stand the whines of a lonely frightened maid. No young person could stand a Loch Tarlie winter. As for me, I am as old as the hills. They say a woman is as old as she feels—and I feel just a thousand and one since my spill!" "Oh, if you've made up your mind, any objection of mine will be waste of words. I wonder if the Frasers will be there this year?" "Macdonald has taken possession of Glen Tarlie," said Ted; "but I don't believe he is there much. It's a pity his wife died—she was just Rowena's sort." "You mean in the way of books," said Geraldine. "Well, I never liked her, she was so indifferent to him; and I think it was sheer wickedness to leave her baby to those Highland folks at the Farm, because she wouldn't be bothered with a child in town." "I'm not going to see a soul," said Rowena in her cheerful voice; "so don't try to rake out company for me. Ted, write; there's a dear! I'm quite impatient to have it settled up. And as for the journey, Geraldine, I shall have a sleeper, and get on by myself. The guards are always attentive to invalids."