"'I'm glad tae hear the Miss is comin' roond fine,' says I.
"'It's the fouk o' Drumtochty hes made her weel. God bless you, for you hev done good for evil,' and wi' that he was aff afore I cud fin' a word.
"He's changed, the body, some wy or ither, and there's a kind o' warmth aboot him ye canna get ower."
Next day I turned into Mrs. Macfadyen's cottage for a cup of tea and the smack of that wise woman's conversation, but was not able to pass the inner door for the sight which met my eyes.
Lachlan was sitting on a chair in the middle of the kitchen with Elsie, Mrs. Macfadyen's pet child, on his knee, and their heads so close together that his white hair was mingling with her burnished gold. An odour of peppermint floated out at the door, and Elsie was explaining to Lachlan, for his guidance at the shop, that the round drops were a better bargain than the black and white rock.
When Lachlan had departed, with gracious words on his lips and a very sticky imprint on his right cheek, I settled down in the big chair, beyond the power of speech, and Mrs. Macfadyen opened the mystery.
"Ye may weel look, for twa month syne I wudna hae believed this day, though a' hed seen him wi' ma ain een.
"It was juist this time laist year that he cam here on his elder's veesitation, and he catches the bairn in this verra kitchen.
"'Elspeth,' says he—it was Elsie the day, ye mind—'div ye ken that ye're an oreeginal sinner?'
"It was nichtfa' afore she got over the fricht, and when she saw him on the road next Sabbath, she cooried in ahint ma goon, and cried till I thocht her hert wud break.