Arthur thanked him gravely, and turned to the first entry: _New Year's Day._ _Good Rissolution. Not to be crool to gerls._ The other entries were not up to the high level of the first, but were chiefly the rough jottings of nefarious plans which, one could gather, generally seemed to miscarry. On 12th August was printed and emphatically underlined the announcement that on that date Arthur Townshend would arrive at Etterick. That the diary was for 1911 and that this was the year of grace 1913 troubled Buff not at all: years made little difference to him. Arthur pointed this out as he handed back the book, and rubbing Buff's mouse-coloured hair affectionately, quoted: "Poor Jim Jay got stuck fast in yesterday." "But I haven't," Buff protested; "I'll know it's 1914 though it says 1911." He put his diary into his safest pocket and asked if he might go to the station. "Oh, I think not," his father said. "Why go into town this foggy morning?" "He wants the 'hurl,'" said Elizabeth. "Arthur that's a new word for you. Father, we should make Arthur pass an examination and see what knowledge he has gathered. Let's draw up a paper: I. What is-- (_a_) A Wee Free? (_b_) A U.P.? II. Show in what way the Kelvinside accent differs from that of Pollokshields. III. What is a 'hurl'? I can't think of anything else. Anyway, I don't believe you could answer one of my questions, and I am only talking for talking's sake, because we are all so sad. By the way, when you say Good-bye to Marget and Ellen shake hands, will you? They expect it." "Of course," said Arthur. The servants came in for prayers. Mr. Seton prayed for "travelling mercies" for the friend who was about to leave them to return to the great city. "Here's the cab!" cried Buff, and rushed for his coat. His father followed him, and Arthur turned to Elizabeth. "Will you write to me sometimes?" Elizabeth stooped to pick up Launcelot, the cat. "Yes," she said, "if you don't mind _prattle_. I so rarely have any thoughts." He assured her that he would be grateful for anything she cared to send him. "Tell me what you are doing; about the church people you visit, if the Peggy-child gets better, if Mr. Taylor makes a joke, and of course about your father and Buff. Everything you say or do interests me. You know that, don't you--Lizbeth?" But Elizabeth kept her eyes on the purring cat, and--"Isn't he a polite young man, puss-cat?" was all she said. Buff's voice was raised in warning from the hall. "Coming," cried Arthur; but he still tarried. Elizabeth put the cat on her shoulder and led the way. "Launcelot and I shall see you off from the doorstep. You mustn't miss your train. As Marget says, 'Haste ye back.'" "You've promised to write.... There's loads of time, Buff." He was on the lowest step now. "Till April--you are sure to come in April?" "Reasonably sure, but it's an uncertain world.... My love to Aunt Alice." _CHAPTER XVI_