, then, we are of one mind so far. Now my wish is to be
bread-giver even when I am dead, to be bread-giver to the children
whose fathers God has taken. Here are Magnus Tulloch's four, and Hugh
Petrie's little lad, and James Traill's five children, and many more
of whom I know not. My houses, big and little, shall be homes for
them. My money shall buy them meal and meat and wadmall to clothe
them. There are poor lonely women who will be glad to care for them,
eight or ten to each, and Suneva Fae and Margaret Vedder will see that
the women do their duty. What thinkest thou?"

"Now, then, I think this, that God has made thy will for thee.
Moreover, thou hast put a good thought into my heart also. Thou knows
I brought in my hand a little money when I came to Shetland, and it
has grown, I know not how. I will put mine with thine, and though we
are two childless old men, many children shall grow up and bless us."

Into this scheme Tulloch threw all his strength and foresight and
prudence. The matter was urgent, and there were no delays, and no
waste of money. Three comfortable fishermen's cottages that happened
to be vacant, were fitted with little bunks, and plenty of fleeces for
bedding. Peat was stacked for firing, and meal and salted fish sent
in; so that in three days twenty-three fatherless, motherless
children were in warm, comfortable homes.

Suneva entered into the work with perfect delight. She selected the
mothers for each cottage, and she took good care that they kept them
clean and warm, that the little ones' food was properly cooked, and
their clothes washed and mended. If there were a sorrow or a complaint
it was brought to her, and Suneva was not one to blame readily a
child.

Never man went down to the grave with his hands so full of beneficent
work as Tulloch. Through it he took the sacrament of pain almost
joyfully, and often in the long, lonely hours of nightly suffering, he
remembered with a smile of pleasure, the little children sweetly
sleeping in the homes he had provided for them. The work grew and
prospered wonderfully; never had there been a busier, happier winter
in Lerwick. As was customary, there were tea-parties at Suneva's and
elsewhere nearly every night, and at them the women sewed for the
children, while the men played the violin, or recited from the Sagas,
or sung the plaintive songs of the Islands.

Margaret brought the dying man constant intelligence of his bounty:
the children, one