As for Juley she sat in her place and reviewed her little family, her “hens of gold” as she loved to call them. God in his infinite mercy, she mused, had seen fit to give her the charge of these four immortal souls; and she would, with His help, try not to fail in so great a trust. In the scurry that morning she had not found time to kneel as long as usual by her bedside. Without constant and secret prayer she knew herself unable to face the difficulties of daily life. So now she closed her eyes and prayed. She prayed for each of her children, including the one yet unborn: for strength and wisdom to guide their feet in the way of peace: for her husband in Philadelphia, and the work he was doing among souls there between the intervals of his business. Lastly she prayed for the whole family of mankind. But prayers embracing the human race are so generous that upon the soul that offers them they have the soothing and releasing effect of a wide landscape or a river which has quietly overflowed its banks. And this is what happened to Juley Bannerman. A sense of extraordinary peace lapped her about. The white Believers and the blue Distant Lands she had thought to enjoy, were destined to travel back to Glasgow a week later in their unviolated wrappers. She slept.

III

The train ran on with a throbbing rhythm that was grateful to the sleeping woman. Linnet sat in a lethargy as usual, twitching his pale blue, delicate eyes in a way he had; and Sholto who wanted to fire off a new penny pistol, searched his sporran for pink percussion caps. With his glengarry off the child showed a bullet-like head covered with short, dark fur, a head that looked as if it could ram enemies out of its way. And the strong knees beneath his tweed kilt were always covered with bruises which were his pride when the first pain them was past. Already he was more than a match for Linnet, and his sisters had been compelled to abandon physical reliance in their dealings with him. When he was whipped he bellowed, but shed few tears, unlike Linnet, who overflowed at a touch. Indeed it was enough to address Linnet teasingly as “President Lincoln” (his namesake) to see the corners of his mouth go down. Though he was now ten, his mother had not yet had the heart to cut the fair effeminate ringlets which reached the collar of his sailor suit. The others, all straight-haired, were proud of Linnet’s curls.