She sat in her corner of the third-class compartment, looking alternately from the window at the flying scenery of Scotland and then down at those boots—strong, unpatched, with superior unknotted laces, all quite new.
She was wearing the long, dark green uniform coat of Redlands and the soft, green close-fitting hat, with a band of the same colour round the crown and the school arms stamped in silver. Underneath she wore the dark green serge "djibbah" with white flannel blouse and green tie.
These things had come for her from Redlands a week ago, with the bill, which Mums had paid out of that amazing cheque for forty pounds—a cheque which Joey had been proud to endorse under the envious eyes of her brothers and sister.
The cheque carried with it an amazing sense of wealth, so it had been a blow when Mums firmly refused to allow one penny of it to be spent on anything but boots and clothes for Joey herself. However, Mr. Craigie (after some careful calculations of which the family knew nothing) produced ten shillings as a parting tip on the day the family were going en masse to Pettalva to choose Joey's boots.
That was a great day for Joey Graham, aged thirteen years and three months, for Mr. Craigie's gift was hampered by no restrictions. She proudly stood lunch to all the rest, and tipped the waiter—a seedy gentleman with a good deal of limp and dingy shirt-front, who was nevertheless an adept at putting cruets, Worcester sauce bottles, etc., over the stains on the tablecloth of the little back-street restaurant where they partook largely of sausages and mashed potatoes, limp pastry and ginger-wine, with Joey hospitably urging them on to further efforts. Even Gavin the Winchester "man" was no greater in the eyes of his family that day!
There had been very little time for inconvenient thoughts of possible home-sickness to obtrude themselves during those bustling days of preparation. Of course it would be strange to have two days' journey between herself and Mums and the rest, Joey knew; but people who have won a scholarship don't go in for being home-sick. Besides, there would be Miss Craigie, Mr. Craigie's sister—mathematical mistress at Redlands and a ready-made friend, Joey was comfortably sure.
So she made her own final preparations very cheerfully, and helped Mums—rather stickily—with the getting ready of Ronnie's shirts and stockings for his plunge a week later into Gavin's old preparatory; and said good-bye and thank you to the schoolmaster and to Effie and Ailie, the sawmiller's twin girls, who sat next her in class; and to Luckie Jean, who unbent to an extraordinary degree and presented a whole bag of "sweeties" at parting; and was finally seen off at Crumach by the entire family, with an old military portmanteau that had been Father's, and a bewildering quantity of new clothes in it.
Mums went with her to the junction at Pettalva; from there she was to travel in the care of the guard to Edinburgh, where Miss Craigie would meet her and take her down to Redlands next day.
Mums and Joey both found a tendency to leave little gaps in the conversation, as the roofs of Pettalva began to come in sight.