them. And your tablecloths and sheets and towels are all right, thanks
to our great-aunt's stores.... And you'll write as often as you can and
tell us everything, if you get a nice scout, and all about your rooms,
and if cushions would be any use, and oh, my dear, _eat_ as much as you
can--don't save on food."

"Of course not," said David. "But several nights a week I'll feed in my
own room. You don't need to go to Hall to dinner unless you like."

He got up from the sofa and went and stood before the fire, keeping his
head very much in the air and his hands in his pockets. He was feeling
that home was a singularly warm, kind place, and that the great world
was cold and full of strangers; so he whistled "D'ye ken John Peel?" and
squared his shoulders, and did not in the least deceive his sister Jean.

"Peter, me faithful hound," said the Mhor, hugging the patient dog.
"What would you like to play at?"

Peter looked supremely indifferent.

"Red Indians?"

Peter licked the earnest face so near his own.

The Mhor wiped his face with the back of his hand (his morning's
handkerchief, which he alluded to as "me useful little hanky," being
used for all manner of purposes not intended by the inventor of
handkerchiefs, was quite unpresentable by evening) and said:

"I know. Let's play at 'Suppose.' Jean, let's play at 'Suppose.'"