Lady Monksburn is a dear old lady; and as she comes from the South, I must never say a word against Southerners again. She took both my hands in her soft white ones, and spoke to me so kindly that before I had known her ten minutes I was almost surprised to find myself chattering away to her as if she were quite an old friend--telling her all about Brocklebank, and my sisters, and Father, and my Aunt Kezia. I could not tell how it was,--I felt so completely at home in that Monksburn drawing-room. Everybody was so kind, and seemed to want me to enjoy myself, and yet there was no fuss about it. If those be southern manners, I wish I could catch them, like small-pox. But perhaps they are Christian manners. That may be it. And I don't suppose you can catch that like the small-pox. However, I certainly did enjoy myself this afternoon. Mr Keith, I find, can draw beautifully, and they let me look through some of his portfolios, which was delightful. And when Annas, at her mother's desire, at down to the harpsichord, and sang us some old Scots songs, I thought I never heard anything so charming-- until Flora joined in, and then it was more delicious still. I think it would be easy to be good, if one lived at Monksburn! Those grey eyes of Annas's seem to see everything. I am sure she saw that Flora would like a quiet talk with Lady Monksburn, and she carried me to see her peacocks and silver pheasants, which are great pets, she says; and they are so tame that they will come and eat out of her hand. Of course they were shy with me. Then we had a charming little walk on the path which ran along by the side of the river, and Annas pointed out some lovely peeps through the trees at the scenery beyond. When we came in, I saw that Flora had been crying; but she seemed so much calmer and comforted, that I am sure her talk had done her good. Then came supper, and then Angus, who had cleared up wonderfully, and was more what he used to be as a boy, instead of the cross, gloomy young man he has seemed of late. Lady Monksburn offered to send a servant with arms to accompany us home, but Angus appeared to think it quite unnecessary. He had his dirk and a pistol, he said; and surely he could take care of two girls! I am not sure that Flora would not rather have had the servant, and I know I would. However, we came safe to the manse, meeting nothing more terrific than a white cow, which wicked Angus tried to persuade us was a lady without a head. CHAPTER SIX. NEW IDEAS FOR CARY. "O Jesu, Thou art pleading, In accents meek and low, I died for you, My children, And will ye treat Me so? O Lord, with shame and sorrow, We open now the door: Dear Saviour, enter, enter, And leave us never more!" BISHOP WALSHAM HOW. As we drank our tea, this evening, I said,-- "Uncle, will you please tell me something?" "Surely, my dear, if I can," answered my Uncle Drummond kindly, laying down his book.