Shortly afterward Singleton took a letter out of a paper rack, and when he had read it he leaned back in his chair, lost in pleasant recollections.

Some years earlier, he had by chance fallen in with a lad named West when fishing among the Scottish hills.

The young man's sister and elder brother were staying with him at the remote hotel in which Singleton had quarters, and somewhat to his astonishment they soon made friends with him.
Poverty had made him reserved; he knew that he was a little awkward and unpolished, but the Wests had not attempted to patronize him.

Their cordiality set him at his ease; he liked the careless, good-humored lad; Ethel West, grave-eyed, direct, and candid, made a strong impression, and he had been drawn to the quiet lawyer who was much older than either.

They spent delightful days together on the lake and among the hills; Singleton told them something about his studies and ambitions, and in the evenings they persuaded him to sing.