Time slipped away very pleasantly. Mysie fast regained her health and strength; and then Rowena suggested a couple of hours at lessons every morning. She was delighted with Mysie's quick intelligence, and Mysie was very naïve in her comments upon Rowena's knowledge. "Why, you know heaps and heaps more than I do! You're as clever as Miss Falconer, and yet you never show off like she did!" And then spring came, a late spring in the Highlands, but a marvellously beautiful one. Rowena had her couch moved out-of-doors for an hour in the sunshine sometimes, and she lay and gazed at the soft shadows chasing each other across the distant hills and loch, and watched the green buds bursting into blossom, and the pale primroses in the banks. "I may never see another spring here," she said rather sadly once to Mysie. "I feel I'm a bit of the soil, but I shall have to depart when my legs are given back to me." Mysie was loud in her laments. "Don't try to get well! We can't spare you. Nobody wants you in India half so bad as Dad and I want you here." But Rowena shook her head, and very soon her brother Ted received a letter from her which rejoiced his heart. "DEAR OLD TED,—" "My year is over! I can hardly believe it, and actually old Niddy-Noddy took it into his wise old head to take his holiday in Scotland this spring. Of course he came on to see me, and much against my will he brought some other old wiseacre from Edinburgh—a chum of his—and they examined me and poked me about, and were highly pleased with the result of my year's rest. I am at present like a baby trying to walk! I am to go slowly, but they say my unused muscles will harden in time, and my back is really cured. What a wonderful thing it is to have a body which will go! I never valued mine properly before, and I assure you I'm going to be very careful and cautious with such a precious possession now. My first walk was taken two days ago. Mysie and Granny nearly cried with the excitement of it. And I staggered and rolled like a drunken tar. But I'm walking more respectably now—only the fatigue of it! I ask myself am I a Rip Van Winkle, and have I spent a hundred years instead of one upon my bed?" "Well, this is enough about my body." "Now about plans. You and Geraldine are very impatient to have me. It is rather pleasant to feel I am wanted so much, and of course the thought of being with you so soon makes me want to dance a jig! This is May. Shall I come out the end of August? Will it be in the middle of the monsoon? But that will be a matter of indifference to me. I must tell you frankly that I shall say good-bye to the Highlands with real concern. My heart has been stolen by its soft air and elusive colours, and the dear simple Gaelic people, not to speak of the charming personality of Mysie Macdonald. And Granny and I have grown into each other's ways, so that it will be hard to snap ourselves asunder."