Elizabeth had done her best to make the rooms pretty, and only that morning she had put the finishing touches, and looked round the rooms brave in their fresh chintzes and curtains, sniffed the mingled odours of new paint and sweet-peas, and thought how Kirsty would love it all. The store-room she had taken especial pains with, and had even wrested treasures in the way of pots and jars from the store-room at Etterick (to Marget's wrath and disgust), and carried them in the pony-cart to help to fill the rather empty shelves at Langhope. So this sunny afternoon, as Elizabeth rose from her writing and began to pour out the tea, she felt at peace with all mankind. She arranged Mr. Jamieson's teacup on a little table by his side, and made it all comfortable for him. "Put away the paper, Father," she cried, "and come and have your tea, and help me to count our blessings. Let's forget Ulster for half an hour." Mr. Seton obediently laid down the paper and came to the table. "Dear me," he said, "this is very pleasant." The bees drowsed among the heather, white butterflies fluttered over the wild thyme and the little yellow and white violas that starred the turf, and the sound of the burn and the gentle crying of sheep made a wonderful peace in the afternoon air. Marget's scones and new-made butter and jam seemed more than usually delicious, and--"Aren't we well off?" asked Elizabeth. Mr. Jamieson looked round him with a sigh of utter content, and Mr. Seton said, "I wish I thought that the rest of the world was as peaceful as this little glen." He helped himself to jam. "The situation in Ireland seems to grow more hopeless every day; and by the way, Jamieson, did you see that the Emperor of Austria's heir has been assassinated along with his wife?" "I saw that," said Mr. Jamieson. "I hope it won't mean trouble." "It seems a pointless crime," said Elizabeth. "Buff, come out of the burn, you water-kelpie, and take your tea." Buff was trying to drag a large stone from the bed of the stream, and was addressing it as he had heard the stable-boy address the pony--"Stan' up, ye brit! Wud ye, though?"--but at his sister's command he ceased his efforts and crawled up the bank to have his hands dried in his father's handkerchief. It never took Buff long to eat a meal, and in a very few minutes he had eaten three scones and drunk two cups of milk, and laid himself face down-wards in the heather to ruminate. "Mr. Jamieson," he said suddenly, "if a robber stole your money and went in a ship to South Africa, how would you get at him?" Mr. Jamieson, unversed in the ways of criminals, was at a loss. "I doubt I would just need to lose it," he said. This was feeble. Buff turned to his father and asked what course he would follow. "I think," said Mr. Seton, "that I would cable to the police to board the ship at the first port." Buff rejected this method as tame and unspectacular. "What would you do, Lizbeth?"