Garth chuckled audibly. Then in a low tone he added,—

“Nor nothing to me what comes of his kin afterwards.”

He paused in his work; his manner changed; he turned to where Mrs. Garth was coiled up before the fire.

“Had he any kin, mother?”

Mrs. Garth glanced quickly up at her son.

“A brother, na mair.”

“What sort of a man, mother?”

“The spit of hissel'.”

“Seen anything of him?”

“Not for twenty year.”