"Dinna greet, Duncan," said Alick. "The boat train won by a' richt, and I manned to haud the points for ye."
But Duncan Urquhart could answer him no word. In the corner sat James Cannon with his head on his hands, rocking himself to and fro in speechless agony of soul.
"Oh, I wuss it had been me," he wailed. "I wuss it had been me!"
"Hoot na, James," said Alick. "It's better as it is—ye hae a young family."
Then, as if he had been thinking it over—
"Duncan," he said, "Duncan, promise me this—ye'll no let Mirren see me. Mind ye, Mirren is no to see me. I dinna want her to think o' me like this.
"She was aye sae taen up aboot me, ye see," he added apologetically, after a little pause.
The doctor came. He bent over Alick. He moved him tenderly, this way and that. Then he ordered all out of the left-luggage office, except Duncan Urquhart and the station master's wife, a quiet motherly woman.
Then, while the doctor did his duty, Alick sank into a kind of stupor. Presently he woke from it with a little start.
"Doctor, is this you?" he said; "this is terrible kind o' ye. But it's a cauld nicht for you to be oot o' your bed so late—and you wi' a hoast!"