Davie heaved a sigh, put on his bonnet, and went out to his accustomed toil.
The subject of America was never long undiscussed in the little cottage circle. Every time Jamie came home he was sure to introduce it.
"Do ye not fare weel eneuch wi' Archie Lindsay?" asked his father.
"Ay, I fare weel eneuch," said Jamie, "but I can never make a step forward. Nothing but America will satisfy me. I am twa-and-twenty years of age, and I can make my way now if ever I can. Wages are good there—twa or three dollars a day in harvest, Robin says—and I could soon earn enough to buy a farm, and stock it too. There is but ane thing would keep me at hame, and that is if ye should say, 'Ye shallna gang.' In that case I think I would grieve mair than you would to let me hae my way."
"Ye will leave us wi' sair hearts if ye gang, Jamie," said his mother, "but I wouldna want a mither's feelings to stand in the way o' your success. If ye maun gang, ye hae my consent and my blessing," said she, wiping her eyes with her apron as she spoke.
Jamie caught the first shadow of consent, and resolved to go the following spring. Before that time his cousin, Robert Lindsay, the millwright, had decided to go with him. The young emigrants wrote to Robin that they were coming, and gained the necessary information in regard to the journey.
With dim eyes and trembling fingers Davie Murdoch counted from his little hoard a sum which, added to his son's earnings, made the amount sufficient to defray the expenses of the journey. "And take this besides," said he as, parent-like, he laid five pounds more on the pile. "Seckness may overtake you, my bairn."
On the day appointed for the departure Archie Lindsay, who was to take Jamie as well as his own son to a railway station, came to Davie's cottage, accompanied by his wife and daughter; they had come to take leave of Jamie. They had become much attached to him in the three years he had lived under their roof.
There were no dry eyes in the cottage that morning. Davie took his son's hand, held it some moments, shook his head sadly, then turned away; he could say nothing. The mother could scarcely do more. She spoke a few words of counsel; then her voice was choked with sobs. The sisters were in tears, and Jamie's own eyes began to fill. He kissed his mother, his sisters, and his aunt Belle. When he came to Annie she proffered a kiss likewise.
"Weel, I hae gained this muckle, at ony rate, by gaen awa. A kiss frae Annie is a thing to remember," said he, trying to make light of his sadness.