The time was short, but the chance of sending Meenie to Glasgow under charge of the Rev. Mr. Blair was opportune; and Mrs. Douglas had no scruple about making use of this temporary concern on the part of her husband about Meenie’s health for the working out of her own ends. Of course the girl was only going away to be brightened up by a little society. The change of air might possibly do her good. There could be no doubt she had been looking ill; and in her sister’s house she would have every attention paid her, quite as much as if she were in her own home. All the same, Mrs. Douglas was resolved that this opportunity for finally fitting Meenie for that sphere in which she hoped to see her move should not be lost. Agatha should have private instructions. And Agatha herself was a skilled musician. Moreover, some little society—of a kind—met at Mr. Gemmill’s house; the time would not be entirely lost, even if a little economy in the matter of fees was practised, in deference to the prejudices and dense obtuseness of one who ought to have seen more clearly his duty in this matter—that is to say, of Meenie’s father. And so it was that, when the Monday morning came round, Meenie had said good-bye to every one she knew, and was ready to set out for the south. Not that she was going by the mail. Oh no, Mr. Murray would not hear of that, nor yet of her being sent in her father’s little trap. No; Mr. Murray placed his own large waggonette and a pair of horses at her disposal; and when the mail-cart came along from Tongue, Mr. Blair’s luggage was quickly transferred to the more stately vehicle, and immediately they started. She did not look like a girl going away for a holiday. She was pale rather, and silent; and Mr. Blair, who had memories of her as a bright, merry, clear-eyed lass, could not understand why she should be apparently so cast down at the thought of leaving her father’s home for a mere month or so. As for old John Murray, he went into the inn, grumbling and discontented. ’It is a strange thing,’ he said,—for he was grieved and offended at their sending Meenie away, and he knew that Inver-Mudal would be a quite different place with her not there,—’a strange thing indeed to send a young girl away to Glasgow to get back the roses into her cheeks. Ay, will she get them there? A strange thing indeed. And her father a doctor too. It is just a teffle of a piece of nonsense.’