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Updated: June 11, 2025
Then, remembering her hostess, she turned to Jean, who still sat on the window-seat, her face flushed and her eyes dark with excitement, the blood-red mandarin's coat with its embroidery of blue and mauve and gold vivid against the dark curtains, and said, "Jean, this is Biddy!" Jean stood up and held out a shy hand. "And this is Jock and Mhor!"
Pamela kept the talk going through tea, and told them so many funny stories that they had to laugh. "If only," said Mhor, "Peter was here now the Honourable's back we would be happy." "There's a big box of hard chocolates behind that cushion," Pamela said, pointing to the sofa. It was at that moment that the door opened, and Mrs. M'Cosh put her head in. Her face wore a broad smile.
But they seemed quite happy to look at books, and talk about just anything and play with Jock and Mhor and tease Peter. Now I expect they'll be talking about their own affairs, but I would have rushed at the pleasure of hearing all about everything I couldn't have waited. Pamela has such a leisured air about everything she does. It's nice and sort of aloof and quiet but I could never attain to it.
Surely he won't be giving us notice to leave The Rigs. Pamela, I'm afraid to open it. It looks like a lawyer's letter." "Open it then." Jean opened it slowly and read the enclosure with a puzzled frown; then she dropped it with a cry. Pamela looked up from her work to see Jean with tears running down her face. Jock and Mhor stopped what they were doing and came to look at her.
"It's a wee Shakespeare to send to Mrs. M'Cosh and I've got a card for Bella Bathgate a funny one, a pig. Read it." He handed the card to Lord Bidborough, who read aloud the words issuing from the mouth of the pig: "You may push me, You may shove, But I never will be druv From Stratford-on-Avon." "Excellent sentiment, Mhor Miss Bathgate will be pleased." "Yes," said Mhor complacently.
I was the proudest of my clan, Long, long may I repine; And Donald was the bravest man, And Donald he was mine. Elspat had enjoyed happy days, though her age had sunk into hopeless and inconsolable sorrow and distress. She was once the beautiful and happy wife of Hamish MacTavish, for whom his strength and feats of prowess had gained the title of MacTavish Mhor.
"It does seem a pity the snow should have gone away before Christmas. Do you know, all the years of my life I've never seen snow on Christmas. I do wish Mhor wouldn't go on praying for it. It's so stumbling for him when Christmas comes mild and muggy. If we could only have it once as you see it in pictures and read about it in books "
We hev gas an' plain-stanes an' a pictur hoose." When Mrs. M'Cosh left the room Jock returned to his books, and the Mhor, his imagination fermenting with the thought of bombs on Priorsford, retired to the window-seat to think out further damage. Some hours later, when Jock and Mhor were fast asleep and David, his packing finished, was preparing to go to bed, Jean slipped into the room.
To cement the union after the Highland fashion, James laid down the name of Campbell, and assumed that of Drummond, in compliment to Lord Perth. He was also called James Roy, after his father, and James Mhor, or Big James, from his height.
The race of Ciar Mhor, however, affecting independence, and commanded by Glengyle and his cousin James Roy MacGregor, did not join this kindred corps, but united themselves to the levies of the titular Duke of Perth, until William MacGregor Drummond of Bolhaldie, whom they regarded as head of their branch, of Clan Alpine, should come over from France.
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