"It is Jean. She is not very well."
"Ah, I was afraid of it," and the old man laid aside the shoe, and looked intently into his visitor's face. "Poor lassie, she must have caught cold out on the hills that night. Is she at Mrs. Dempster's yet?"
"Yes. Empty came for me this morning, and he had to go right back."
"I must go at once." Joe rose from the bench as he spoke and untied his leather apron. "Jean may need me now."
"Would it not be better for your wife to go?" Douglas asked. "A woman can generally do more in a sick room than a man."
Joe shook his head as he carefully folded the apron and laid it on the bench.
"No, she couldn't very well go. She hasn't been that far in a long
time. It's her foot, you see. It's been troubling her for years.
Jean'll have to come home, and then she can look after her. Just wait,
I'll be with you in a minute."
As the two walked along the road there was little said for a time. Joe seemed to be lost in thought, and occasionally he gave a deep sigh.
"I am thinking," he at length remarked, "that this sickness will be for Jean's good. It may be that the Lord has a hand in it, and He will lead her home through the valley of trouble. He did it in olden days, and I believe He does the same now."
"Have you any idea what is the matter with your daughter?" Douglas enquired. "What do you suppose has caused such a great change in her from what she was before she left home?"