“Ah!  Jack,” said she, in a mincing English fashion, that she had learned at the boarding school.  “No, no, we are rather old for that”—­this because I in my awkward fashion was pushing my foolish brown face forward to kiss her, as I had done when I saw her last.  “Just hurry up like a good fellow and give a shilling to the conductor, who has been exceedingly civil to me during the journey.”

I flushed up red to the ears, for I had only a silver fourpenny piece in my pocket.  Never had my lack of pence weighed so heavily upon me as just at that moment.  But she read me at a glance, and there in an instant was a little moleskin purse with a silver clasp thrust into my hand.  I paid the man, and would have given it back, but she still would have me keep it.

“You shall be my factor, Jack,” said she, laughing.  “Is this our carriage?  How funny it looks!  And where am I to sit?”

“On the sacking,” said I.

“And how am I to get there?”

“Put your foot on the hub,” said I.  “I’ll help you.”

I sprang up and took her two little gloved hands in my own.  As she came over the side her breath blew in my face, sweet and warm, and all that vagueness and unrest seemed in a moment to have been shredded away from my soul.  I felt as if that instant had taken me out from myself, and made me one of the race.  It took but the time of the flicking of the horse’s tail, and yet something had happened, a barrier had gone down somewhere, and I was leading a wider and a wiser life.  I felt it all in a flush, but shy and backward as I was, I could do nothing but flatten out the sacking for her.  Her eyes were after the coach which was rattling away to Berwick, and suddenly she shook her handkerchief in the air.

“He took off his hat,” said she.  “I think he must have been an officer.  He was very distinguished looking.  Perhaps you noticed him—­a gentleman on the outside, very handsome, with a brown overcoat.”

I shook my head, with all my flush of joy changed to foolish resentment.

“Ah! well, I shall never see him again.  Here are all the green braes and the brown winding road just the same as ever.  And you, Jack, I don’t see any great change in you either.  I hope your manners are better than they used to be.  You won’t try to put any frogs down my back, will you?”

I crept all over when I thought of such a thing.

“We’ll do all we can to make you happy at West Inch,” said I, playing with the whip.

“I’m sure it’s very kind of you to take a poor lonely girl in,” said she.

“It’s very kind of you to come, Cousin Edie,” I stammered.  “You’ll find it very dull, I fear.”

“I suppose it is a little quiet, Jack, eh?  Not many men about, as I remember it.”

“There is Major Elliott, up at Corriemuir.  He comes down of an evening, a real brave old soldier who had a ball in his knee under Wellington.”