“He has brought you a present—something that he has made—which he hopes will be useful to you.”
“What is it, Elspie?”
“You shall see. May I tell him to come in and bring it with him?”
“Surely, my tear. Let him come in. It iss always goot for sore eyes to see himself—whatever.”
Elspie went out. A few minutes later there was heard in the passage a strange rumbling sound.
“What in all the world iss that?” said the old man to Little Bill, who happened to be his companion at the time.
“It sounds like wheels, I think,” said Billie.
The door opened as he spoke, and Dan Davidson entered, pushing before him an invalid chair of a kind that is familiar enough in the civilised world, but which was utterly unknown at that time in those regions.
“Goot-mornin’, Tan; what hev you got there? Iss it a surprise you will be givin’ me?”
“It is a chair, sir, which will, I hope, add a good deal to your comfort,” said Dan. “I made it myself, from the memory-model of one which I once saw in the old country. See, I will show you how it acts. Push me along, Jessie.”