e moment
he spoke; and he saw, too, something of the mystic in Hamish. For in
later years there had grown an expression in Hamish's kind brown eyes
which the schoolmaster understood--the look of a soul that has longed
to soar, but has been kept down by narrow limitations.

Then the supper was spread upon the table, and it was all the visitor
could desire; porridge in brown bowls, smoking and fragrant, sweet
white bread, and bannocks with plenty of maple syrup. And afterwards,
when the supper was cleared away, and Scotty and Hamish had finished
the milking, they all gathered about the stove, which now stood in
front of the old discarded fireplace. First the schoolmaster had to
tell of his life and lineage, during which recital he proved his
Scottish blood to everyone's satisfaction. There did not seem to be
much to tell of his past doings, though in response to the simple,
kindly questionings, he gave it all. He had been born in Scotland and
was quite alone in Canada, except for Captain Herbert, who was an old
friend, and whose wife had been a distant relative. He had studied law
for some years, but his health had failed before his course was
completed. Then he had knocked about the world a good deal, and had
come north at Captain Herbert's advice to see if the Oro air would not
do him good.

"Indeed, and it will that!" Big Malcolm declared heartily. "Jist you
eat plenty o' pork and oatmeal porridge and you'll be a new man in no
time. Hoots, when we would be coming here first folk would never be
sick like now-a-days; and indeed it wasn't often a man died except a
tree would be falling on him, whatever."

"Those must have been fine times," said the schoolmaster smilingly; and
thereupon his host and hostess launched into long tales of the old
days, when the forest came up to the door, and of those older and
happier days in the homeland across the sea.

Big Malcolm and his wife lived much in the past now, and, when the
guest displayed a kindly interest in their history, they opened their
hearts even to speak of Callum, their light-hearted, bright Callum,
whose end had been so untimely. The schoolmaster heard also the manner
of his death; how it had brought the great preacher, and how in the
double grave in the Glen by the river one of the Fighting MacDonalds,
at least, had buried all his feuds. And they told him, too, of their
only daughter, the beautiful little Margaret, who had been Scotty's
mother. Monte