Mysie appeared the next day in high spirits at the thought of a day and a night away from home. "You haven't forgotten me?" Rowena asked, as the little arms went round her neck and hugged her. "I couldn't never forget you. You're my best friend, but Miss Falconer simply won't let me come and see you. She throws excuses in the way, and she told me I bored you, and that it wasn't fair to worry you so. Do I bore you? Do I worry you? Now I know I don't. Your eyes tell me I don't! I don't like Miss Falconer's eyes—they never laugh, only look round the corner at you. But she's gone away, and I'm pretending that she's not in the world at all, and never coming back." "We won't mention her. And now, little Flora, how shall we map out the day? I'm unfortunately forbidden to go on the loch again, isn't that a trial?" "Oh, it's ripping anyhow with you! I love to talk and play with Shags. And there will be the meals. I love meals away from home, they're so lovely. And oh! I do love and adore you when you call me Flora!" Another hug followed, then in more sober tones Mysie said: "Dad came back and told me how nearly drownded you were! I told him if you went dead, I would never smile again. I couldn't! My heart would be broken right in two. And when your eyes twinkle and smile at me as they are doing now, it gives me a lump of joy in my chest. Do you know the feeling?" "I know you're a darling little bundle of emotion and Highland sensitiveness!" said Rowena. "And as I'm very much alive, we won't talk of that disaster of mine any more. Tell me all you've been doing since we last met." Mysie began at once. "We won't talk of the lessons—or of Miss Falconer. I'm rather afraid of her, you know; Angus says she's wanting in soul. What does that mean? She says Angus is an ignorant fool. I'll tell you about the other day. I got in a scrape—it was the day Miss Falconer left. I went riding up the moor with Angus and then I got away from him—and then I saw far-away two darling deer—and I tied my pony up and I crept up to them like Angus does—only he calls it stalking. And I didn't know there were other people creeping about, until I saw a man with a gun. And then I knew he meant to shoot them, and my blood boiled up, and I clapped my hands and screamed, and the deer scampered away, but the man came out of the bushes with his gillie, and they both swore at me. They were frightfully angry, and the man said if I didn't make tracks for home he'd lay a stick across my back. And fancy, he called me a boy! I stood still and just told him who I was. It made him rather surprised. I told Dad about it, and he said it was a wicked thing of me to do, but I said it was wicked to shoot the poor deer—I love them all. I had a little tame deer once before its horns grew."