Of course both Elsie and her brother missed the fields with their wild-flowers, missed the golden furze and the yellow tasselled broom, missed too the whisper of the wind in the dark waving pine-trees, the croodle of the cushat, the mellow notes of the mavis, and plaintive song of the blackbird; but Sandie told Elsie all these things would come again when he got his church, which was bound to be in the country, and in one of the most romantic parts of the country too. Meanwhile they must live in hope.
You may be sure that Sandie had not been long at home ere he paid a visit to the manse of Belhaven, and his friend Willie went with him. Sandie would not—could not—go near Kilbuie; his grief was far too recent.
He found Mackenzie not one whit altered. Maggie May came forward with a smile and a bonnie blush to welcome Sandie back; but she gave him no kiss. She was altered. She was a child no more.
But she paid him a compliment.
“How you have improved!” she said. “And how red and burned you are!”
That night, while discussing a delightful dinner, Sandie and Willie held Mackenzie and Maggie May spellbound as they related all the adventures of their perilous voyage.
Next day, by way of bringing back sweet memories of Auld Lang Syne, the young folks went fishing and picnicking; and a very happy, pleasant day they spent, bringing home, too, an excellent bag.
They stayed nearly a week at the manse, then, promising faithfully soon to come again, they said “Adieu!” and shortly were back once more in the Granite City.
I must not forget to mention that Sandie brought back with him from sea, not only his dear friend Tyro, but that beautiful young red tabby cat, and that they speedily made themselves perfectly at home at Kilbuie Cottage.
During the summer that ensued, Sandie devoted much of his time to coaching young students for the University. This was a kind of work that was congenial to his tastes, and that really paid fairly well.