All in all were they to each other that brother and sister, and innumerable were the things they had to tell each other on this last night, and many the confidences to interchange, for four long months must elapse ere they could see each other again.
More than once Sandie could see tears glistening in the moonbeams on his sister’s cheeks.
But one o’clock came at last, and he had to send her away.
“Anyhow, Sandie,” she said, as she rose to go, “you will promise not to study too, too hard. Mind you are all I have, Sandie, and if anything happened to you, the grave would soon close over your poor sister Elsie.”
“I promise,” said Sandie, “to take care of myself for mother’s sake and yours. Good-night, dear Elsie.”
“Good-night, dear Sandie.”
And away glided the girl again as silently as she had come.
. . . . . .
Sandie and Willie got back to the city on Hogmanay night. That is the last night of the old year. This is kept in Scotland with great glee, and I fear with not a little drunkenness. No one thinks of going to bed till the New Year comes in, and no one thinks of remaining indoors.
Our heroes found Union Street about eleven o’clock crowded to excess, one dense mob from Union Bridge to Castle Hill, but all good-humoured, all hearty. Here and there the bagpipes skirled, here and there songs were sung.