'Janet's an old footer,' he said, with an attempt at lightness. 'That's a good Scotch word which just suits her. If I'd give her an opening, she'd have deafened us.' But after this remark, he fell into an awkward silence which impelled Mary's mind back to that only other occasion in her life when she had sat at table alone with a man, when she had eaten an ice cream in the gaudy atmosphere of Bertorelli's Saloon, when Denis had pressed her foot with his and
charmed her with his gay and sparkling tongue.
How different were her surroundings here, in this cool freshness of the cottage garden filled with the exhaled perfume of a hundred blossoms; how different, too, was her companion, who neither chattered of alluring trips abroad, nor yet, alas, caressed her foot with his. Now, however, he was shaking his head at her.
'You've only eaten two after all,' he murmured, looking at her tragically, adding slowly, 'and I said seven.'
'They're so large,' she protested.
'And you're so small but you would be bigger if you did as you were told.'
'I always did as you told me in the hospital!'
'Yes,' he replied after a pause, 'you did, indeed.' A heaviness again seemed to settle upon him while his thoughts flew back 'o the vision of her as he had first seen her, with her eyes closed, inanimate, blanched, a broken, uprooted lily. At last he looked at his watch,
then looked at her with a sombre face. 'Time's getting along, I'm afraid. Shall we get back?'
'Yes,' she whispered, 'if you think it is time.'
They arose and went out of the sweet seclusion of the garden which might have been made for the enclosure of two ardent lovers without further speech, and when he had helped her into the trap, he returned and paid old Janet.
'I'm not wantin' your siller, Doctor,' she skirled. 'It's a pleasure to do it for you and the bonnie leddie.'
'Here, Janet,' he cried, 'take it now or I'll be cross with you.'
She sensed the faint difference in his mood and, as she took the money, whispered in a humble tone:
'Have I put my foot in't? I'm gey and sorry if I've done that. Or was it the scones that werna to your taste?'
'Everything was all right, Janet splendid.' he rejoined, as he mounted into his place. 'Good-bye to you.'
She waved them a faintly uncomprehending good-bye and, as they disappeared around the bend of the hill, she again shook her head, muttered to herself and reentered her cottage.
They spoke little on the way home, and when he had asked her if she were comfortable, or if she wished the covering of a rug whether she had enjoyed the trip if he should set Tim to a faster pace he relapsed into a silence which grew more oppressive the nearer they approached to Levenford.
The tentacles of her home were opening again to receive her, and when they had enclosed her, Brodie, swollen-eyed and with a parched tongue, would awake morosely from his sleep to demand her immediate attention to his tea; Nessie would require her sympathy and consolation; she would be confronted at once by the innumerable tasks which it was her duty to perform. This brief and unexpected departure from the sadness of her life was nearly over and, though she had enjoyed it exquisitely, an exquisitely painful sorrow now filled her heart as she realised dully that this was probably almost certainly the last time that she would see him.
They were nearly at her gate now, and drawing up a short distance away, he said in an odd voice:
'Well! Here we are back again! It's been very short, hasn't it?”
'Very short,' she echoed as she arose from the seat and descended to the ground.
“We should have had longer at Markinch,' he said stiffly; then, after a pause, 'I may not see you again. I suppose I better say good- bye.' They looked at each other a long time and from beneath him, her eyes shone with a faintly suppliant light; then he drew off his glove and extended his hand to her, saying in a strained tone,
'Good-bye.'
Mechanically she took his hand and as she felt within her grasp the firm, cool strength of his fingers, that she had so often admired, that had once soothed her tortured body but would never again do so, these fingers she loved devotedly, her feelings suddenly overcame her and, with a sob, she pressed her warm lips fervently against his hand and kissed it, then fled from him down the road and entered her house.
For a moment he looked at his hand incredulously, then raised his head, and, regarding her vanishing figure, made as though to leap out of the trap and follow her; but he did not, and after a long stillness, during which he again gazed at his hand, a strange look entered his eyes, he shook his head sadly, and drawing on his glove, he drove slowly down the road.
IX
'BRING in some more porridge for your sister!' cried out Brodie to Mary in a loud voice. 'You could put this in your eye what you've given her. How do you expect her to work on an empty stomach, and to-day of all days?'
'But, Father,' protested Nessie weakly, 'I asked Mary not to give me so much. I'm to have a switched egg. The thought of more porridge sickens me this morning.'
'Tuts, woman! You don't know what's good for ye,' replied Brodie. 'It's a good job you've got your father to look after ye and see that ye take what's wholesome. Stick into that porridge now! That's the stuff to lie against your ribs and fit ye for what's before ye.' And he leant back largely in his chair, surveying with a self-satisfied eye the figure of his younger daughter as, with a faintly trembling spoon, she endeavoured to thrust a few further spoonfuls of porridge between her nervous, unwilling lips. He did not consider that it nauseated her to eat this morning, or that in her anxiety she might have been happier to be left quietly alone, but, in high fettle at the thought that this was the great day, the day of competition for the Latta, he had not departed for the office at his usual hour but remained to sustain and encourage her with his presence. He would, he thought, be a fine one if he could not see his daughter off to take the Latta. Gad! that was not the style of him, though! He had stuck to his task through all these weary months, ay, and seen that she had stuck to hers, with such perfect thoroughness that now he was not the man to spoil the broth for a halfpennyworth of salt. No! He would not go into the office this morning, would not, indeed, go in all day. He would take a whole holiday for the occasion. It was a festival; he had worked for it and, by God! he would enjoy it. A faint grin marked his features at this consideration and) still surveying her with satisfaction, he cried:
'That's right, woman! Take it steady. There's no need for hurry. Your father's behind ye.'
'Has she not taken enough now, Father?' ventured Mary, her eyes pleading towards him from out her fine- drawn face. 'She's maybe too anxious to eat this morning. I've a beaten egg for her here.'
'Take it up, Ness take it up,' drawled Brodie, ignoring completely the interruption. 'We know what puts the pith into a body. Ye might be downright starved if it wasna for me. I'm not the one to let ye sit through a three hours' examination with nothing inside of ye to stand up to it.' He was in his element, reaping the fruits of his labour with her, his vicissitudes forgotten, the stabbing memory of Nancy for the present eased, and, opening his mouth in a broader and more derisive smile, he exclaimed, 'Gad! It's joist occurred to me that maybe that snipe o' a Grierson is sittin' at the table, watchin' that whelp o' his stap down his breakfast and wonderin’ what'n all the world he's goin' to make o' himself the day. Ay, it's a rich thought for me.' His smile dried up, became bitter. 'The Provost o' the Borough, forsooth the fine, easy spokesman o' the town. God! He's lookin' gey small and mean and anxious this mornin', I'll wager.' He paused for a moment then, observing that Nessie, who had succeeded in finishing the porridge, was sipping her egg and milk, he cried roughly, as though the bitterness of the thought of Grierson had not quite left him, 'Here! Take a scone and butter to that slush if ye will drink it.' He glowered at Mary, adding, 'Some folks would make a jaw box o' that stomach of yours!' then, returning his glance to Nessie, he continued, in an admonishing tone. 'Don't flicker your een like that, woman; you would think that it was a frichtsome business that you were goin' up for to-day, instead o' an easy osey piece of writin' that you've got to do. It's all in your head, waitin' to come out. All that's to do is to take up your pen and write it down. Is that anything to upset ye so that you take a scunner at the good, wholesome porridge?' He reviewed the profound wisdom of his logic blandly, then, as though the absurdity of her nervousness suddenly irritated him, he shot at her questioningly,
