If it would amuse you I'll try." So Jean sat down to the piano and sang "Proud Maisie," and "Colin's Cattle," and one or two other old songs.
"I wonder," said Peter Reid, "if you know a song my mother used to sing--'Strathairlie' ?" "Indeed I do.

It's one I like very much.

I have it here in this little book." She struck a few simple chords and began to sing: it was a lilting, haunting tune, and the words were "old and plain." "O, the lift is high and blue, And the new mune glints through, On the bonnie corn-fields o' Strathairlie; Ma ship's in Largo Bay, And I ken weel the way Up the steep, steep banks o' Strathairlie.
When I sailed ower the sea, A laddie bold and free, The corn sprang green on Strathairlie! When I come back again, It's an auld man walks his lane Slow and sad ower the fields o' Strathairlie.
O' the shearers that I see No' a body kens me, Though I kent them a' in Strathairlie; An' the fisher-wife I pass, Can she be the braw lass I kissed at the back o' Strathairlie?
O, the land is fine, fine, I could buy it a' for mine, For ma gowd's as the stooks in Strathairlie; But I fain the lad would be Wha sailed ower the saut sea When the dawn rose grey on Strathairlie." Jean rose from the piano.

Jock had got out his books and had begun his lessons.

Mhor and Peter were under the table playing at being cave-men.
Pamela was stitching at her embroidery.