And it is not a bit my putting it, Uncle, but it is just that you are a dear and--well, a real sport; you love fair play." The girl suddenly threw her strong, young arms about her uncle's neck, drew him close to her, and kissed him almost as if she had been his mother.
The little man was deeply touched, but with true Scotch horror of a demonstration he cried, "Tut, tut, lassie, ye're makin' an auld fule o' your uncle.

Come now, be sensible!" "Sensible!" echoed his niece, kissing him again.

"That's my living description among all my acquaintance.

It is their gentle way of reminding me that the ordinary feminine graces of sweetness and general loveliness are denied me." "And more fools they!" grunted her uncle.

"You're worth the hale caboodle o' them." That same evening there were others who shared this opinion, and none more enthusiastically than did Mr.Dunn, whom Miss Brodie chanced to meet just as she turned out of the Waverly Station.
"Oh, Mr.Dunn," she cried, "how very fortunate!" Her face glowed with excitement.
"For me; yes, indeed!" said Mr.Dunn, warmly greeting her.
"For me, for young Cameron, for us all," said Miss Brodie.