Ann said nothing for a minute, but sat scribbling on a corner of her paper; then she looked at her mother, and her eyes were half sad, half merry:
"It's an odd thing, Motherkin, that only very good people feel their own shortcomings. Now, I, covered as with a garment by sins of omission and commission, am quite perky and well pleased with myself. I walk on my heels and think what a noble creature I am, and how much people must admire me. Try being complacent, my dear, for a change! It's much more comfortable. You know, Mother, you should have been a Roman Catholic, then you could have worn a hair shirt, and done all sorts of little penances and kept yourself happy."
"Oh, Ann!" Mrs. Douglas gave a laugh that was almost a sob. "You do talk such utter nonsense, but you look at me with your father's eyes..."
"Well, what I want is to get some information about the Glasgow part of your life. You started a lot of new things, didn't you, in connection with the church?"
"Oh yes, a sewing-class and a mother's meeting, and a fellowship meeting and a literary society—I forget what else, but they were all more or less successful. Martyrs people were delightful to work with—so appreciative."
"And very amusing," said Ann; "I always enjoyed their remarks about things. I overheard one young man say, as he wiped his heated brow after a thoroughly unventilated evening spent looking at magic-lantern slides of various mission stations—'My! I'm fair sweatin' comin' through thae Tropics.' We always called him 'Tropics' after that. What they thoroughly enjoyed was being asked to our house. It wasn't till I grew up that I appreciated those parties, but I very distinctly remember some you gave at the time of your silver wedding to let every one see the presents. We tried to assort the people—young men and women in the evening, and matrons in the afternoon. It wasn't always easy to find suitable topics to converse on with the matrons, but one afternoon some one started the subject of washing clothes, and it called forth a perfect flood of eloquence. Every one had something to say, and we thrashed out the subject from the first stage of soaking the clothes until they were starched and ironed and put away. There didn't seem to be one more word that could be said about it when the arrival of some newcomers made rearranging the room necessary. As I moved about, I saw one woman hitch her chair nearer her neighbour and heard her say thrillingly, 'Speakin' aboot washing, Mrs. Law, did ye ever try——' It became a favourite saying with us. When Robbie wanted to change the subject he always began, 'Speakin' aboot washing, Mistress Law——'"
CHAPTER XVI
When Mr. Philip Scott came to lunch at Dreams he stayed a long time—so long that Marget remarked to Mysie in the kitchen, "That man is surely het at hame that he's sittin' here so long clatterin'."
He had had a good lunch, had been shown the house and what would be the garden, had walked with Ann a little way along the hill road and duly admired the view, and had then returned to the living-room, where he sat talking and listening till tea was brought in, stayed for an hour after tea, and even then had seemed loath to go away.