“Did ye see onything?” Drumsheugh leaned forward and spoke in a whisper.
“A' saw naething but a gude man gaein' oot on his lang journey, an' a' want tae see nae graunder sicht.
“He wesna conscious, an' his wife, puir wumman, wes murnin' that she wudna get a last look, an' John, him 'at 's Burnbrae noo, wes distressed for his mither's sake.
“'Say the name,' for a' wes holdin' his head, 'an' he 'ill hear;' but a' cudna; it wesna for my tongue.
“So he said it into his father's ear, an' Burnbrae opened his eyes, and githered them a' in a smile, an' a' heard twa words.
“'No evil.' He wes past sayin' fear.... Drumsheugh, a' wud... tak ma chance the nicht wi' auld Burnbrae.”
“Ma mither didna ken us for the laist twa days,” and Drumsheugh rested his head on his hands.
“Ye mind the bit lassiky”—Maclure would tell all when he was at it—“that lived wi' Mary Robertson and Jamie Soutar made sic a wark aboot, for her mither wes dead; she wes chokin' wi' her tribble, an' a' took her on ma knee, for Daisy and me were aye.
“'Am a' gaein' tae dee the day?' she said, an' a' cud not tell a lee lookin' intae yon een.'
“'Ye're no feared, dautie, 'a' said; 'ye 'ill sune be hame.'