"If you give me a sheet of paper and an envelope I might write to the Lion at the Zoo." For the sake of peace Mrs.M'Cosh produced the materials, and Mhor sat down at the table, his elbows spread out, his tongue protruding.

He had only managed "Dear Lion," when Jean called him to go upstairs and wash his teeth and get a clean handkerchief.
The sun was shining into the dining-room, lighting up the blue china on the dresser, and catching the yellow lights in Jean's hair.
"What a silly morning for November," growled Jock.

"What's the sun going on shining like that for?
You'd think it thought it was summer." "In winter," said Mhor, "the sky should always be grey.

It's more suitable." "What a couple of ungrateful creatures you are," Jean said; "I'm ashamed of you.

And as it happens you are going to have a great treat because of the good day.