door wide open, before Jessie reached the steps. "Oh
indeed, indeed, it would be too kind of you and your mother to be
troubling," he said deprecatingly, as he took the little tin pail.
"Come away in, come away!"

"You should not come to the door when you are sick, Mr. McDonald," said
the girl kindly. "Are you better to-day?"

"Oh, yes indeed, yes indeed, I will jist be all right," cried Duncan,
sweeping the snow from her small, neat boots. "And now you will jist
be sitting by the fire for a rest after your long walk."

His tone was so eager that Jessie's heart was touched. She took the
proffered seat, and Duncan in his pleasure and overwhelming hospitality
began to cram the stove full of wood.

"Oh, I'm not cold, Mr. McDonald," she said, "not a little bit. Why, I
was _hot_ coming up the hill, the sun is so strong."

Duncan smiled at the bright, beautiful face. "Ah, it will be good to
be young," he said, sinking into his old rocking chair again. "Oh yes,
indeed. Then you will be taking off your things for a little?" he
questioned nervously.

The girl slipped off her jacket and fur cap, and sat by the window, her
curly head and her bright dress making a pretty picture in the bare
little room. Duncan regarded her with a wistful admiration.

"Oh yes, yes," he sighed. "You will be minding me o' the times when
Betsey would be a lass, and my father and mother would be here."

Jessie's soft grey eyes were full of sympathy. "I suppose everything
has changed for you since then, hasn't it?"

Duncan nodded. How sadly things had changed for him, the girl could
not guess.

"Father always says," she continued, "that people aren't nearly as good
now as they were in the old times, when Mr. McAlpine used to come here.
He says we young folks have too good a time." She gave a little
half-apologetic laugh.

Duncan looked up suddenly with a feeling of joyful surprise. He had
not dreamed that this bright young creature would understand or
appreciate his troubles, but she had touched the keynote at once. His
sensitive nature opened to sympathy as a morning glory to the sunrise:
his reticent tongue was immediately loosened.

"I will be afraid that sometimes us old folk will not be giving the
young ones the credit they deserve," he said indulgently. "But indeed
the lads and lasses in the Glen will be doing work in the church we
would never be having in my young days. There will be this new
society, whatever, the