"Na, naething o' the kind. I could tell you what it is mysel, but he would rather tell it."
"I will come and see him. I hear he isna lang for this warld."
"He willna be here lang," replied Wullie.
"God hae mercy on us a'," said Donald, with emotion.
That night there was a timid knock at honest Wullie's door. "Come in," said Wullie in a loud tone. The latch was lifted, and in walked Donald McPherson. Jeannie set a chair for him, and Wullie spoke pleasantly to him. But Donald was ill at ease. He seemed looking for some one he did not see. A voice from the bed said, "Good evening to ye, Donald." Donald approached the bed, and Rab extended his hand.
"I am o'er sorry to see you here," said Donald, grasping the proffered hand. A shiver ran through him as he saw and felt how emaciated it was.
"I am o'er sorry to see you here," said Donald.
"My hand is o'er thin," said Rab, noticing his emotion.