ney and whiskey, much tasted
in Auchindarroch, for his cough, and the mother of young Burnbrae filled
his cupboard with black jam, as a healing measure. Jamie Soutar seemed
to have an endless series of jobs in the doctor's direction, and looked
in "juist tae rest himsel" in the kitchen.

MacLure had been slowly taking in the situation, and at last he
unburdened himself one night to Jamie.

"What ails the fouk, think ye? for they're aye lecturin' me noo tae
tak care o' the weet and tae wrap masel up, an' there's no a week but
they're sendin' bit presents tae the house, till a'm fair ashamed."

"Oo, a'll explain that in a meenut," answered Jamie, "for a' ken the
Glen weel. Ye see they're juist try in' the Scripture plan o' heapin'
coals o' fire on yer head.

[Illustration: "TOLD DRUMSHEUGH THAT THE DOCTOR WAS NOT ABLE TO RISE"]

"Here ye've been negleckin' the fouk in seeckness an' lettin' them dee
afore their freends' eyes withoot a fecht, an' refusin' tae gang tae a
puir wumman in her tribble, an' frichtenin' the bairns--no, a'm no
dune--and scourgin' us wi' fees, and livin' yersel' on the fat o' the
land.

"Ye've been carryin' on this trade ever sin yir father dee'd, and the
Glen didna notis. But ma word, they've fund ye oot at laist, an' they're
gaein' tae mak ye suffer for a' yir ill usage. Div ye understand noo?"
said Jamie, savagely.

For a while MacLure was silent, and then he only said:

"It's little a' did for the puir bodies; but ye hev a gude hert, Jamie,
a rael good hert."

It was a bitter December Sabbath, and the fathers were settling the
affairs of the parish ankle deep in snow, when MacLure's old housekeeper
told Drumsheugh that the doctor was not able to rise, and wished to see
him in the afternoon. "Ay, ay," said Hillocks, shaking his head, and
that day Drumsheugh omitted four pews with the ladle, while Jamie was so
vicious on the way home that none could endure him.

Janet had lit a fire in the unused grate, and hung a plaid by the window
to break the power of the cruel north wind, but the bare room with its
half-a-dozen bits of furniture and a worn strip of carpet, and the
outlook upon the snow drifted up to the second pane of the window and
the black firs laden with their icy burden, sent a chill to Drumsheugh's
heart.

The doctor had weakened sadly, and could hardly lift his head, but his
face lit up at the sight of his visitor, and the big hand, which was now
quite refined in its whi