When Jamie was told at the hospital that Lily had been taken away again in the ambulance next day to the house of the visiting physician, his wrath had no restraint.
“Is there nae place in this ceety whar a freendless lassie can rest till she gaes tae her laist hame?” and Jamie set off for the physician, refusing to hear any explanation.
“Hev a' an appointment wi' Sir Andra? Yes, a' hev, an' for this verra meenut.” So again he got access, for the virile strength that was in him.
“We have done all we could for her, but she has only a day to live,” said Sir Andrew, a little man, with the manner of a great heart; “she will be glad to see you, for the lassie has been wearying for a sight of some kent face.”
“Ye 're Scotch,” said Jamie, as they went upstairs, softening and beginning to suspect that he might be mistaken about things for once in his life; “hoo did ye bring Lily tae yir ain hoose?”
“Never mind that just now,” said Sir Andrew. “Wait till I prepare Lily for your coming,” and Jamie owned the sudden tone of authority.'
“One of your old friends has come to see you, Lily”—Jamie noted how gentle and caressing was the voice—“but you must not speak above a whisper nor excite yourself. Just step into the next room, nurse.”
“Jamie,” and a flush of joy came over the pale, thin face, that he would hardly have recognised, “this is gude... o' ye... tae come sae far,... a' wes wantin'... tae see a Drumtochty face afore a'-” Then the tears choked her words.
“Ou ay,” began Jamie with deliberation. “You see a' wes up lookin' aifter some o' Drumsheugh's fat cattle that he sent aff tae the London market, so of course a' cudna be here withoot giein' ye a cry.
“It wes a ploy tae find ye, just like hide-an'-seek, but, ma certes, ye hev got a fine hame at laist,” and Jamie appraised the dainty bed, the soft carpet, the little table with ice and fruit and flowers, at their untold value of kindness.