But the refreshing cups of tea that Maggie May brought Willie, when at last they got safely home, banished every vestige of fatigue, and he was soon his laughing, happy self again.
As the wind had now begun to blow, and snow was falling, the students agreed to stay at the manse all night. So a messenger was despatched immediately to Kilbuie farm to let Mrs. M‘Crae know their decision, and then Mackenzie, who really was a boy at heart, and the students settled down to enjoy themselves.
The minister rather prided himself on the good dinners he gave, and certainly that of to-night was no exception to the general rule.
After this, as Robbie Burns says—
“The nicht drave on wi’ sangs and clatter,”
till twelve o’clock, chimed out by the pretty clock on the mantelpiece, a gift from the minister’s parishioners, warned them it was time to court repose.
. . . . . .
How quickly that week sped away, only those situated as were Sandie and Willie could imagine.
But every time has an end, and the more we are enjoying ourselves, the faster does old Father Time fly. This is very nasty of old Father Time, only he will have his own way, despite anything we can say or do.
The last night had come and gone, and Willie had retired to his room, and was seated by the window, through which the bright moonlight was streaming, when Elsie, looking in her long night-dress like a sheeted ghost, came gliding in. Her dark hair all undone was streaming down her back. Sandie hastened to place a seat for her, and to wrap her from top to toe in a Highland plaid.