His tone was so eager that Jessie's heart was touched. She took the proffered seat, and Duncan in his pleasure and overwhelming hospitality began to cram the stove full of wood.
"Oh, I'm not cold, Mr. McDonald," she said, "not a little bit. Why, I was hot coming up the hill, the sun is so strong."
Duncan smiled at the bright, beautiful face. "Ah, it will be good to be young," he said, sinking into his old rocking chair again. "Oh yes, indeed. Then you will be taking off your things for a little?" he questioned nervously.
The girl slipped off her jacket and fur cap, and sat by the window, her curly head and her bright dress making a pretty picture in the bare little room. Duncan regarded her with a wistful admiration.
"Oh yes, yes," he sighed. "You will be minding me o' the times when Betsey would be a lass, and my father and mother would be here."
Jessie's soft grey eyes were full of sympathy. "I suppose everything has changed for you since then, hasn't it?"
Duncan nodded. How sadly things had changed for him, the girl could not guess.
"Father always says," she continued, "that people aren't nearly as good now as they were in the old times, when Mr. McAlpine used to come here. He says we young folks have too good a time." She gave a little half-apologetic laugh.
Duncan looked up suddenly with a feeling of joyful surprise. He had not dreamed that this bright young creature would understand or appreciate his troubles, but she had touched the keynote at once. His sensitive nature opened to sympathy as a morning glory to the sunrise: his reticent tongue was immediately loosened.
"I will be afraid that sometimes us old folk will not be giving the young ones the credit they deserve," he said indulgently. "But indeed the lads and lasses in the Glen will be doing work in the church we would never be having in my young days. There will be this new society, whatever, the Christian Endeavour."