But whither?
Verily the high gods must hold me in peculiar favour.

The first letter I opened was from old Simon McQuhatty, my present host, a godfather of my mother, who alone of mortals befriended us in the dark days of long ago.
He was old and infirm, he wrote, and Gossip Death was waiting for him on the moor; but before he went to join him he would like to see Susan's boy again.

I could come whenever I liked.

A telegram from Euston before I started would be sufficient notice.

I sent Stenson out with a telegram to say I was starting that very day by the two o'clock train, and I wrote a polite letter to my Aunt Jessica informing her of my regret at not being able to accept her kind invitation as I was summoned to Scotland for an indefinite period.
My old friend's ministry in the Free Kirk of Scotland is drawing to a close; he has lived in this manse, a stone's throw from his grave, for fifty years, and the approaching change of habitat will cost him nothing.