"Oh, I don't know. Richard Plantagenet, I should think." "Really, Jean?" "Why not? But you'd better ask him. Are you going, Cousin Lewis? When will you come and see Davie?" "Let me see. I'm lunching at Hillview on Friday May I come in after luncheon? Thanks. You must all come up to Laverlaw one day next week. The puppies are growing up, Mhor, and you're missing all their puppyhood; that's a pity." Later in the evening, just before Mhor's bedtime Lord Bidborough came to The Rigs. Pamela was resting, he explained, or writing letters, or doing something else, and he had come in to pass the time of day with them. "The time of night, you mean," said Mhor ruefully "In ten minutes I'll have to go to bed." "Had you a nice time this afternoon?" Jean asked. "Oh, ripping! Coming up by Tweed in the darkening was heavenly. I wish you had been with us, Miss Jean. Why wouldn't you come?" "I had things to do," said Jean primly. "Couldn't the things have waited? Good days in December are precious, Miss Jean--and Pam and I are going away next week. Promise you will go with us next time--on Saturday, to the Eildon Hills." "What's your Christian name, please?" Jock broke in suddenly, remembering the discussion. "Jean says it's Richard Plantagenet--_is_ it?" Jean flushed an angry pink, and said sharply: "Don't be silly, Jock. I was only talking nonsense." "Well, what is it?" Jock persisted. "It's not quite Richard Plantagenet, but it's pretty bad. My name given me by my godmother and godfathers is--Quintin Reginald Fuerbras." "Gosh, Maggie!" ejaculated Jock. "Earls in the streets of Cork!" "I knew," said Jean, "that it would be something very twopence-coloured." "It's not, I grant, such a jolly name as yours," said Lord Bidborough--"Jean Jardine." "Oh, mine is Penny-plain," said Jean hurriedly. "Must we always call you Lord?" Mhor asked. "Of course you must," Jean said. "Really, Mhor, you and Jock are sometimes very stupid." "Indeed you must not," said Lord Bidborough. "Forgive me, Miss Jean, if I am undermining your authority, but, really, one must have some say in what one is to be called. Why not call me Biddy?" "That might be too familiar," said Jock. "I think I would rather call you Richard Plantagenet." "Because it isn't my name?" "It sort of suits you," Jock said. "I like long names," said Mhor. "Will you call me Richard Plantagenet, Miss Jean?" The yellow lights in Jean's eyes sparkled. "If you'll call me Penny-plain," she said. "Then that's a bargain, though I don't think either of us is well suited. However--now that we are really friends, what did you do this afternoon that was so very important?" "Talked to Lewis Elliot for one thing: he came to tea." "I see. An excellent fellow, Lewis. He's a relation of yours, isn't he?" "A very distant one, but we have so few relations we are only too glad to claim him. He has been a very good friend to us always.... Mhor, you really must go to bed now."