"My father died there, and my mother, too," was the answer.
The new master stared. "Surely, surely," he was saying, half to himself, "it couldn't be possible; but his wife's name was MacDonald too! And Herbert always said the child died!"
Under the man's steady gaze Scotty fidgeted with his axe in combined amazement and embarrassment.
"Was your father's second name Everett?"
"Yes, and that will be mine, too."
The new master stared harder.
"Well, well, well," he muttered, "I wonder if he knows!"
The boy stood lost in a wild speculation. By some queer trick of memory he was back once more in Store Thompson's shop, a little curly-headed fellow, and felt a man's kind, playful hand upon his curls; and at the sound of his name saw a smiling face grow suddenly grave with amazement, fear and defiance chasing one another across it. How was it that, all through his life, his English name seemed always to produce consternation?
Monteith shook himself as though awakening from a dream.
"I beg your pardon," he said hastily, "your name called up some old memories. And now, I must be going." He held out his hand again. "Good-bye, and I thank you for your generosity."