But in the Highlands, with here and there a rare exception, August is one of the very loveliest months of all the year. We say of a human face that it is finer after life has given its touches and done somewhat of its fine chiselling, and a little so does the last summer month surpass the two that went before. More sedate than jocund June; far calmer than July with its tempests and fervid heats, the shadows fall differently, the changed lights give you a new insight into things. The days are so exquisite partly because they are shortening; the flowers hurry out in troops. And nowhere in all the year do we have such a succession of wonderful sunset skies as in August. Then the temperature is for the most part perfect; the cool mornings and evenings only the fairer for the midday heat. It is a time when you can sit out, dine out, and well nigh take leave of the house altogether. One wise thing inexperienced Mrs. Kindred remembered to do. From point to point as the miles rolled by, she sent postals to the girls at home, and one at the outset to Magnus. He knew just when to look for her. And so, when the day came, and dinner was over, Cadet Charlemagne reported his absence at the guard tent, and strolled away to Trophy Point, and seated himself to wait and watch. Too early yet by an hour; but he was restless and could do nothing else. The day was cloudless now; the noon heats still in the air; the hazy, lazy hum of the locusts thrilled out on every side. Perhaps lazy is not just the word--but there are no inflections; they fight it out on one line, as few tired workers ever can. A suspicion of real haze hung over Newburgh; the more distant hills looked faint and dreamy. Far up the river a long tow wound silently down, leaving its trail upon the quiet water; nearby a sloop or two went softly on, spreading their white wings to the breeze. There was just enough air stirring to lift and drop, lift and drop, the bunting on the flagstaff. Magnus sat looking and listening, drawing a deep breath now and then. How long it seemed since he first saw Trophy Point and that flagstaff!--and it was really but fourteen months. He glanced up at the flag, just then shaking out its lovely folds. That had not changed. And he knew his mother had not; she would be just the same blessed person she had always been. But how about himself? and what would she think of him? And now, studying that question, Magnus took out mentally his own private stand of colours and looked at them, matching them with the flag overhead. It hung very still just then; and yet he could see a star here, a touch of the stripes there. Storms might beat it to ribands, but they could not change the colours nor make the flag come down.