“Preserve ye, man, what’s wrang wi’ ye? It’s a mercy a’ keppit ye, or we wud hev hed anither job for Sir George.
“Ye ‘re a’richt noo; sit doon on the strae. A’ ‘ll come back in a while, an’ ye ‘ill see Annie, juist for a meenut, but ye maunna say a word.”
Marget took him in and let him kneel by Annie’s bedside.
He said nothing then or afterward for speech came only once in his lifetime to Tammas, but Annie whispered, “Ma ain dear man.”
When the doctor placed the precious bag beside Sir George in our solitary first next morning, he laid a check beside it and was about to leave.
“No, no!” said the great man. “Mrs. Macfadyen and I were on the gossip last night, and I know the whole story about you and your friend.
“You have some right to call me a coward, but I ‘ll never let you count me a mean, miserly rascal,” and the check with Drumsheugh’s painful writing fell in fifty pieces on the floor.
As the train began to move, a voice from the first called so that all the station heard:
“Give ‘s another shake of your hand, MacLure; I’m proud to have met you; your are an honour to our profession. Mind the antiseptic dressings.”
It was market-day, but only Jamie Soutar and Hillocks had ventured down.