There were three boiled eggs for each of them; there was a segment of an immense currant cake ("a present from my guid brither last Hogmanay"); there was skim milk cheese; there were several kinds of jam, and there was a pot of dark-gold heather honey.
"Try hinny and aitcake," said their hostess.

"My man used to say he never fund onything as guid in a' his days." Presently they heard her story.

Her name was Morran, and she had been a widow these ten years.

Of her family her son was in South Africa, one daughter a lady's-maid in London, and the other married to a schoolmaster in Kyle.

The son had been in France fighting, and had come safely through.