"Strange," thought old Mrs. Mackenzie; "that is the way poor Donald used to caress my hand when he was quite a boy. Surely the Lord has given me this child's love to cheer my old age, and to prove that he has forgiven me."
* * * * *
Dawson and Mrs. Mackenzie the elder had a consultation soon after this. The subject to be considered was this: How best could she do something for her daughter-in-law that would not wound her pride?
"I felt sure," said the solicitor, with straightforwardness, "that you would put this question to me, and I have thought it well out. The doctor has told me that she is now almost well, but that if she returns to her life of poverty and hard work in Glasgow, she will soon find her last home in the mools."
"Well, Mr. Dawson?"
"Well, my dear madam, the cottage hospital down the Clyde is turning a great success; if you could add two beds to it—"
"Nothing would please me better. I will build a small additional wing to it, with a little cottage and garden near for the matron."
"Oh, thanks. You quite anticipate what I was going to say."
"Yes—that my daughter-in-law could be appointed manageress, with Jack's sister as nurse."
"That is it."