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.
"The wanderer has returned," she said.
At that moment Jean thought the Glasgow accent the most delightful thing on earth and the smile on Mrs. M'Cosh's face the most beautiful. With a shout they all made for the kitchen.
There was Peter, thin and dirty, but in excellent spirits, wagging his tail so violently that his whole body wagged.
"See," said Mrs. M'Cosh, "he's been in a trap, but he's gotten out.
Peter's a cliver lad."
Jock and Mhor had no words. They lay on the linoleum-covered floor while
Mrs. M'Cosh fetched hot milk, and crushed their faces against the little
black-and-white body they had thought they might never see again, while
Peter licked his own torn paw and their faces in turn.
* * * * *