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I was about to withdraw, when I heard a familiar voice, above the noise of a phonograph, from one of the rooms just above the bar. It was Geordie's. "Gie us 'Nearer, my God, to Thee," I heard him cry, with drunken unction. "Gin ye haena ane o' the psalms o' Dauvit i' yir kist o' tunes, mak' the creetur play 'Nearer, my God, to Thee."
"She lookit at me, and a' lookit at her, an' naething passed; but that wes the laist time a' saw her at the manse. A 've hed experience, and a 'm no feared tae tak' chairge o' yir nephew."
I ken fine a' ye say is true, but he's yir faither for a' that. An' he loves ye maist as weel as me; but oh, my bonnie, there's nane loves ye like yir mither! His hairt's fair broken for ye, Robin. I'll tell ye something, but ye maunna tell yir faither. I heard him pray for ye all alane by himsel'. He prayed to God to bring ye back he ca'd ye Robin richt to God.
I wes feared when I heard o' the papers; 'Lat weel alane, says I to the Dominie; 'ye 'ill bring a judgment on the laddie wi' yir blawing. But ye micht as weel hae spoken to the hills. Domsie's a thraun body at the best, and he was clean infatuat' wi' George. Ay, ay, it's an awfu' lesson, Marget, no to mak' idols o' our bairns, for that's naethin' else than provokin' the Almichty."
It came out through the ingenuousness of the probationer, who mentioned casually that he was told Drumtochty liked four heads in the sermon. "May I ask the name of yir adviser?" said the beadle, with awful severity. "The hoosekeeper?
Margaret Meiklewham a woman of a severe countenance, and filled with the spirit of the Disruption who had governed the minister of Pitscowrie till his decease, and had been the terror of callow young probationers, offered herself, and gave instances of her capability. "Gin ye leave yir nephew in my hands, ye needna hae ony mair concern. A 'll manage him fine, an' hand him on the richt road.
A' peetied him wi' Tammas lookin' at him sae wistfully, as if he hed the keys o' life an' deith in his hands. But he wes honest, and wudna hold oot a false houp tae deceive a sore hert or win escape for himsel'." "Ye needna plead wi' me, Tammas, to dae the best a' can for yir wife.
No one spoke to Domsie as we went down the cart track, with the ripe corn standing on either side, but he beckoned Chalmers to walk with him. "Ye hae heard him speak o' me, then, Maister Jamieson?" "Ay, oftentimes, and he said once that ye were hard driven, but that ye had trampled Satan under yir feet."
He handed it to his wife, who took it, turning her wan face to mine. "There's only ane, but it'll dae us a' let Robin haud it. Tak' it, laddie; it's warm frae yir sister's haun'." The wanderer's reverent hand received it, and holy memories, long banished, flowed back into the heart that had not been their home since the golden days of boyhood.
She swept us into one brief flush of gratitude, from Domsie to Posty. "Neeburs, ye were a' his freends, and he wanted ye tae ken hoo yir trust wes mickle help tae him in his battle." There was a stir within us, and it came to birth in Drumsheugh of all men: "Marget Hoo, this is no the day for mony words, but there's juist ae heart in Drumtochty, and it's sair."
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