“I came over to bring some maninosies to the tavern, sir, in time for them to be prepared for breakfast. I expect you ate some of them yourself, sir.”
“Yes, and they were very good.”
“My sister and I gathered them, sir.”
“Yes. Well, my boy, you look like a fine, independent, enterprising lad. Rely on God and yourself, improve your mind, be honest, industrious, and frugal, and you will make your own way in the world. What is your name?”
“Hugh Hutton, sir.”
“Yes, young Hutton of the Isles, one of the ‘Scotch lairds,’ as the people used to call them for their pride and——”
“Poverty,” calmly concluded the boy.
“Well, child, they go admirably together. Hold to your pride as long as you are poor, and cast it away when you become rich. Well, Hugh, I will not forget you, or lose sight of you. Some day I shall come back, and then you may return with me. Good-by,” said Dr. Hardcastle, shaking hands with the boy.
Then he arose in his seat, lifted his cap, and waved farewell to the neighbors. Elsie kissed her hand to them several times, blushing brightly as they all waved their hats and handkerchiefs, and amid the cheers and benedictions of the little crowd the wagon started.
“We must make thirty miles to-day, dear Elsie, and reach Deep Dell by nightfall if possible,” said Magnus.