She was Jamie’s father’s sister and, from all accounts, the favorite daughter of the old Laird of Inchbrakie, and since Lily did admire both those men, it had been easy to extend that admiration to the Laird of Abercairney’s lady, who could reason with the cleverness of Captain Graeme, and had the old laird’s kind eyes.

A lady of her quality arriving at their door in Kinloch’s Close was an occasion, apparently. Some of their neighbors had gathered to gawk.

As Jean opened the door, Lily spotted the face of the violer’s wife and shrank back out of sight. It was very unsettling, the way that the violer’s wife looked at all of them. When Lily’s father’s friends from the town guard had been here these past days helping to watch over them, they’d talked to the violer’s wife sometimes; told her to keep away.

But those men weren’t here this morning.

The violer’s wife called out, loudly, “May God damn his soul!”

Robin’s mother, just crossing the threshold, turned fully to face her, making her elegant body a shield for Jean, Lily and Bessie and baby James. Calmly, she said, “There are children here.”

Lily heard the sound of shuffling from the close. And silence.

Robin’s mother said, “Shame on ye all. Go home.” Then turning again, she stepped into their house.

She had brought Robin with her, and a somber, heavy-featured man whose name went by too quickly in the introductions for Lily to make note of it beyond the fact they’d called him Mr. Somebody, and he had brought a Bible with him, carried in his hand with care, which meant he was a minister.

Lily would have wished for Jamie, too, to keep her company, but he felt ill, so she was told. “We are not any of us feeling well at heart, this day,” was Robin’s mother’s explanation, making Lily wonder whether Jamie’s father had been called to war along with hers, and who would stay and guard the town when all the soldiers were away.

Those worries joined the others in her busy mind.

It was, from the beginning, a perplexing visit. Jean, instead of setting out refreshments for their guests, retreated privately into the farther corner with the minister and knelt with him, and prayed. This went on for so long that wee James began to fuss, and Robin’s mother took him from the bed and carried him about as if it were quite natural for visitors and bairns to be ignored in such a manner.

Robin had brought games with him—a spinning top, and knucklebones—to Bessie’s great delight. But Lily did not join them in their play, and even watching them, her thoughts were turned to other things.

Her kitten, as though he could sense her distraction, presented her with a dead mouse—his first capture and kill.

Lily praised him with her father’s words, by saying, “Ye’re a right wee sodjer,” but when she reached out to pet the kitten, he leapt up onto the larger bed, where he was not allowed to be, and she was forced to chase him down again.