And if I can find any more I'll make one for the Honourable; she is very kind about giving me chocolates." They were out of doors by this time, and Mhor was pointing out the glories of the garden.
"You see, we have a burn in our garden with a little bridge over it; almost no one else has a burn and a bridge of their very own.

There are minnows in it and all sorts of things--water-beetles, you know.

_And here are my puddock-stools._" When Mr.Reid came back from the garden Mhor had firm hold of his hand and was telling him a long story about a "mavis-bird" that the cat had caught and eaten.
"Tea's ready," he said, as they entered the room; "you can't go away now, Mr.Reid.See these cookies?
I went for them myself to Davidson the baker's, and they were so hot and new-baked that the bag burst and they all fell out on the road." "_Mhor_! You horrid little boy." "They're none the worse, Jean.

I dusted them all with me useful little hanky, and the road wasn't so very dirty." "All the same," said Jean, "I think we'll leave the cookies to you and Jock.

The other things are baked at home, Mr.Reid, and are quite safe.
Mhor, tell Jock tea's in, and wash your hands." So Peter Reid found himself, like Balaam, remaining to bless.