"No, Buff. I don't think that Mr. Martin has the look of a robber exactly. Perhaps he's only lazy. But I'm quite sure Mrs. Martin's efforts don't keep the house. Of all the dirty little creatures! And so full of religion! I've no use for people's religion if it doesn't make them keep a clean house. 'We're all Homeward Bound,' she said to me. 'So we are, Mrs. Martin,' said I, 'but you might give your fireside a brush-up in passing!'" "Now, now, Elizabeth," said her father, "you didn't say that!" "Well, perhaps I didn't say it exactly, but I certainly thought it," said Elizabeth. At this moment Buff, who had been gobbling his bread-and-butter with unseemly haste and keeping an anxious eye on a plate of cakes, saw Thomas take the very cake he had set his heart on, and he broke into a howl of rage. "He's taken my cake!" he shouted. "Buff, I'm ashamed of you," said his sister. "Remember, Thomas is your guest." "He's not a _guest_," said Buff, watching Thomas stuff the cake into his mouth as if he feared that it might even now be wrested from him, "he's a pig." "One may be both," said Elizabeth. "Never mind him, Thomas. Have another cake." "Thanks," said Thomas, carefully choosing the largest remaining one. "If Thomas eats so much," said Billy pleasantly, "he'll have to be put in a show. Mamma says so." "Billy," said Miss Christie, "how is it that you have such a fine accent?" "I don't know," said Billy modestly. "It's because," Thomas hastened to explain--"it's because we had an English nurse when Billy was little. I've a Glasgow accent myself," he added. "My accent's Peebleshire," said Buff, forgetting his wrongs in the interest of the conversation. "Mamma says that's worse," said Thomas gloomily. Mr. Seton chuckled. "You're a funny laddie, Thomas," he said. "Kirsty," said Elizabeth, "this is no place for serious conversation; I haven't had a word with you. Oh! Father, how is Mrs. Morrison?" "Very far through." "Ah! Poor body. Is there nothing we can do for her?" "No, my dear, I think not. She never liked taking help and now she is past the need of it. I'm thankful for her sake her race is nearly run." Thomas stopped eating. "Will she get a prize, Mr. Seton?" he asked. James Seton looked down into the solemn china-blue eyes raised to his own and said, seriously and as if to an equal: "I think she will, Thomas--the prize of her high calling in Jesus Christ." Thomas went on with his bread-and-butter, and a silence fell on the company. It was broken by a startled cry from Elizabeth. "Have you hurt yourself, girl?" asked her father. "No, no. It's Mrs. Veitch's scones. To think I've forgotten them! She sent them to you, Father, for your tea. Buff, run--no, I'll go myself;" and Elizabeth left the room, to return in a moment with the paper-bagful of scones. "I had finished," said Mr. Seton meekly. "We'll all have to begin again," said his daughter. "Thomas, you could eat a bit of treacle scone, I know."