benefit of both his patients and of the country in general. And this time he was more than thankful when the house was eventually returned to him and he could once again live in the peace and quiet of the green hills.

But the strain of his war work and been so very great that it was some considerable time before hecould regain his normal resilience and decisiv- eness, and if it had not been for his new lady's maid who had been appointed when the aging Susan retired, life would have been very difficult indeed. But Margaret, then only twenty-four, tower of strength. Al- though still so new to the work, she took over completely, organi- zing the household (the staff much dimished from pre-war days), the catering, even Ian himself, telling him which outfit

was

wear for ecery function he attended, whether he should wear a suit or a dress or some- thing more casual, even what underwear and stockings would be the best with the chosen ensemble. Ian came to rely more and more on her and a relation- ship was built up which lasted unchanged until his death.

In 1955 an unusual in- cident took place. Isobel's son, John, who married at the end of the forties, had become the father of a son (to be named Ian), and Ian went to the christ- ening in Edinburgh. After wards, he cradled the small scrap of humanity in his arms while the proud father took photo- graphs of his infant son held by, as he pointed out, the child's only other living relative in the world. And as the small bundle lay cradled, he smiled at his great-aunt - a beatific and totally tootless smile which went straight to Ian's heart.

The sixties became the seventies, and 1972 had just given way to 1973 when lan, now a very old lady, sat one evening in his favorite spot - at his bureau in his bedroom

window looking out at his beloved hills, now all mistily green as the new young growth began to peep out between the shrivelled stalks of the old. Without intending to make a de- tailed review he found that his mind was running back over innumerable scenes and actions in his long and busy life; a life which he felt could not have been more wonderful; a life which he knew was now draw- ing to a close. He and Millie had not for years been separate intellects in one body. Now Ian had absorbed Millie and was female, and Millie had absorbed Ian and was male. The two of them had long been completely merged into one person in a delightful female frame. And Ian could still revel in being in wearing beautiful clothes, in being a woman, while Millie within him was equally ful- filled by her possession of a masculine intellect. Life for them both had indeed been wonderful.

not

But now he felt that he must stir himself to complete all his preparations before he made his final journey. His will, the will of an exceedingly wealthy woman, had been made for many years. Since he was childless and without a family of his own, many great and national charities had taken pains to remind him of their permanent need for funds and their efforts had not gone un- noticed and would go unrewarded. But now the ba- lance of life was changing. Where big was beautoful the lone individual was finding it more and more difficult to exist as an individual and not be just an another statistic in a large crowd. Ian felt strongly that he should leave his wealth away from organizations and to people - to individuals to human beings. He rang for Margaret. "Margaret, dear - will you phone and ask Mr. Annandale to come and see me. Tomorrow, if he can, but if not, then, let him fix a time. You know what

my engagements are." "Yes, Miss Millie. He'll likely want to know why SO he can bring any papers he might need."

"Yes, of course. Tell him want to change my will.' "Very well, Miss Millie.' "Oh, and Margaret "Yes, Miss Millie?"

"What's my nephew's ad- dress, do you know? John Isobel's son?"

"But Miss Millie - don't you remember he died two years ago? In a car crash with his wife?"

"Dear me, of course how forgetful I've become." He thought for a few minutes. There was a little boy, wasn't there?"

"Yes Ian he wasn't with his parents in the crash." "Do you know his

"NO no the family moved down to London a few years ago and since his parent's deaths I don't think we've heard from him. He'll be about 17 or 18 now, so he won't need to be in care of anybody. He'll likely be living in a flat or a bed-sitter or something by him- self."

"Oh well, I expect Mr. Annandale will know how to get in touch with him.”

Six weeks later, Ian, now just past his eightieth birthday, dies peacefully in his sleep and was buried in the conse- crated ground of ground of the little watched over village church forever by his beloved hills.

ON his eighteenth birthday, in April 1973, Ian, alone in the world in his small flat in an outer suburb of London, gazed enquiringly at the letter from a firm of attorneys in Edinburgh asking whether he was the lan Paterson who had had an elderly relative, a great-aunt, by name Millicent Mary McGregor..........