“That is what I came here to talk to you about. I’ll tell Willie he is your gillie, as it were, for the fishing. He will carry the fish to the shed for you, and dinna forget Mither’s cubby there is yours! Feyther paid for the space, and put up all the fixtures. If they werna named in the will, and there is any question of my right in the matter, say, I hae given it to you.”
“But the kippering shed and fixtures were named and given to Mither and mysel’, and——”
“They are yours. Let no one put you oot o’ your right. Willie will bring the feesh to you—the finest I hae in my nets—and when they are kippered, he’ll go to the town wi’ you, and carry your basket.”
“That is all I need, Norman, and I am vera gratefu’ for your kindness.”
“And I’ll be walking through the shed, to see that a’ is right. And if anything is beyont you, sister, you’ll send Willie for me.”
Christine could not speak, but she put her hand in his, and the look on her lovely face filled his eyes 312 with tears. “You are wonderfu’ like Mither this afternoon, Christine,” he said softly. And both were silent a little while. When he spoke next, it was of Neil—“Hae ye had a word frae the lad yet?” he asked.
“Not one, nor from the lass he married. I don’t know what to think.”
“Weel, it is as easy to think good, as evil. If we dinna thing wrang, we won’t do wrang. Thinking no evil! That is what the Good Book advises. The puir lad was spoiled i’ the making. If he comes back to any o’ us, he will come back to you, Christine. There was the son, wha left his hame, in the gospels—ye ken how he was treated?”
“Whenever Neil comes hame, Norman, he will hae a loving welcome from Christine.”
“The puir lad made a mistake wi’ his marriage. That is the warst of a’ mistakes. No man wins o’er it. It is the bitter drop in a’ he eats and drinks, it is the pebble in his shoe, whether he warks or plays. Neil willna come hame till sorrow drives him here—then?”