"Very well. It is not my business," he snapped as he left the room.
The instant he was gone Donald, who could not keep silent another moment, cried:
"Oh, father! I am so glad you are going to let Sandy manage the dipping!"
"It is an experiment, Don. Sandy is young and he may make a mess of things—not because he does not mean well, but because he lacks experience. He has been here a long time, to be sure, but he never has taken any care beyond watching his own flocks."
"I do not think he will fail. The men will all help him. They like him."
"I can see that."
"And I like him too, father."
"So do I, son. I am trusting him with this work not only because I like him but because I feel sure that the son of such a father cannot go far astray. It was a great surprise to me when I found Sandy was the son of Old Angus. You see we all thought so much of the old Scotchman that he was Old Angus to everybody. I had almost forgotten he had another name. I don't think I ever heard any one call him Angus McCulloch in my life. And yet I remember the name now, for I can recall seeing it written out on checks and letters."
"It is a fine name," Donald declared.
"Sandy comes of good stock. I want to help him all I can. If he has the right stuff in him perhaps we can give him a lift. I wish we might, for I feel we owe his father more than we ever can repay."