I laughed. "Oh, Marget, you and Tammas, come, you make me think of the lecture room and the discipline of the German drill-master. I smell those Scotch scones right there upon the table, and the cottage cheese, I haven't had any for four years."
"Oh," laughed Marget, "he's jist like he aye was, oor laddie. His appetite and his heart were aye the biggest pairts o' him. Eh, but I'm that glad tae see ye laddie, if ever I kissed ony that was o' the male gender, it's you I'd be kissing. Come on ben."
They led me in, Marget holding my hand and beaming up into my face. "Wha ever wad hae thocht it, oor wee Jack," she kept saying proudly to Tammas.
"Wheest," said Tammas, vainly trying to say one thing and mean another, "Wheest wumman, it's Mr. Jack noo."
For answer I stopped and looked at him with feigned pain, and Marget clapped her hands and laughed.
"Where is Elsie?" I said, suddenly remembering. "Has she grown any?"
I thought Tammas's smile would spread over the rest of him when I asked for his granddaughter.
"Has she grown any? My, my! Why listen, Jack, 'tis four years since you saw her—she was twelve then—our little lassie, and four years make a deal o' difference in a lassie."
"She has jist gane oot to the dairy to get some cream for breakfast," said Marget. "See, yonder she comes. Look an' tell me if she's the same," and Marget pointed with a smile.
I saw a tall girl coming down the little path, carrying a pitcher of cream in one hand and twirling a Scotch sunbonnet in the other. Her dark red-brown hair fell in two school girl braids down her back. Her every line showed gentleness of breeding; and her beauty of face was really wonderful.