The old impetuous decision brought Mactier back to his surroundings at once. He was again the old retainer with the respectful manner and the stoic Scotch face. He stooped and picked from the floor the shirt that had fallen from the bed.
"Here it is, sir," he said.
"That's it. Thanks." Trevelyan gave the shirt a shake and laid it in the Gladstone. "I'm just going to look around out there—you know I never could stay long in one place at a time, Mactier—and perhaps help the soldiers a little. I'll be back before you know it!"
Mactier continued to hand him slowly one by one the articles on the bed, which Trevelyan put into the Gladstone. The old man was silent.
Trevelyan closed the Gladstone with a snap and looked up, a quizzical smile in his eyes.
"You're not afraid I'm going to get the cholera and die—are you?"
Mactier looked down at him adoringly.
"Ay, sir, I fear just that."
Trevelyan laughed.
"Nonsense! Nothing has ever killed me yet." He rose and pushed the Gladstone to one side with his foot. "When I get back from Aberdeen, we'll fix everything up for the year. If anything goes wrong or you want any advice, you can refer to Mr. Granger as usual. He'll come up from Edinburgh if necessary."