"She was rude to the little cat, Father; she said it had fleas."
"Well, well," said his father peaceably; "be quiet now while I read."
Elizabeth rose and detached the kitten, taking it and Buff on her knee, while her father opened the Bible and read some verses from Jeremiah—words that Jeremiah the prophet spake unto Baruch the son of Neriah in the fourth year of Jehoiakim, the son of Josiah, king of Judah. Elizabeth stroked Buff's mouse-coloured hair and thought how remote it all sounded. This day would be full of the usual little busynesses—getting Buff away to school, ordering the dinner, shopping, writing letters, seeing people—what had all that to do with Baruch, the son of Neriah, who lived in the fourth year of Jehoiakim?
The moment prayers were over Buff leapt to his feet, seized the kitten, and dashed out of the room.
"He's an ill laddie that," Marget observed, "but there's wan thing aboot him, he's no' ill-kinded to beasts."
"Marget," said Elizabeth, "you know quite well that in your heart you think him perfection."
"No' me," said Marget; "I think no man perfection. Are ye comin' to see aboot the denner the noo, or wull I begin to ma front-door?"
"Give me three minutes, Marget, to see the boys off."
Two small boys with school-bags on their backs came up the gravelled path. "Here comes Thomas—and Billy following after. Buff! Buff!—where is the boy?"
"Here," said Buff, emerging suddenly from his father's study. "Where's my bag?"