One evening, when the McPhersons were spending an hour or two at the cottage, Donald took it into his head to joke Wullie about matrimony.

"Hoot, man, what ails ye, to talk after that fashion?" exclaimed Wullie.

"And what for no? Is it no a gude fashion? I daur ye to say it is no a gude fashion!"

Wullie did not reply, but a smile was on his face.

"Honestly, noo," continued Donald; "Katy and I hae talked it over mair than ance, and we baith think it is the best thing that could be dune. Ye ken there is naething against it, for Rab was no your vera ain brither."

Katy smiled, but Jeannie knitted busily, showing neither pleasure nor displeasure.

Donald's suggestion seemed to have struck Wullie favorably, for after the visitors had gone he ventured to renew the subject.

"Jeannie, what think ye aboot oor neebor's talk?"

"His talk aboot what? He says sae muckle, wha can mind it a'?" she said with that persistent dullness of comprehension that is often assumed by her sex.

Wullie, seeing he would have no help in the matter, came to the point at once, "His talk aboot wedlock, to be sure."

"It is but ane o' his daft notions," she replied, but in a tone less severe than the words.

"It isna sae daft a notion, perhaps," he said, following up his advantage. "It is true I hae neither riches, wit, nor beauty. I hae naught but a hamely living to offer ye, and that ye s'all hae at ony rate if I can win it. I will always do my best to provide for Rab's family, but it might be mair proper to hae the family a' in ane. What do ye say till it?"

"I will say naething against the wish o' him wha is gaen awa. He said, 'If Wullie would ever wish to mak ye his wife, hear till him.'"

"Noo, then," said Wullie, "I will tak the first kiss I hae had o' a woman sin' my mither died. Hoo soon s'all it be?"

"As it suits yoursel. Ye ken my best earthly affections lie in the grave wi' your brither; but if ye can tak respect and esteem instead o' affection, I willna oppose your wishes."

"Weel, I will accept what ye hae to gie me, and perhaps the affection will come after a while."

"Ye are mair than warthy o' it, Wullie; sae I hope it will come. But sin' I didna hae it, I wouldna deceive ye."

"Ye hae been honest aboot it at ony rate, sae it wunna fret me."

A few days later Wullie returned from town with a nice dress-pattern for Jeannie, some tartans for the little girls, cloth to be made up for Jamie, and a new suit for himself. After a few weeks there were gathered in the best room of the cottage Farmer Lindsay and his wife, Donald and Katy McPherson, the children, and the parish minister. Before him stood honest Wullie and the widow, who was then to become Mrs. William Murdoch. After the ceremony and the congratulations were over came a supper such as had never before been seen in the cottage. After this was finished Farmer Lindsay took his seat by the window, and often looked out into the twilight. Presently he saw, as he expected, his herd-boy leading a fine young cow.

"I suppose ye hae room in your byre for anither coo?" he asked, addressing Wullie.

"Ay, I hae room eneuch, if that was a' that stood in the way o' twa being there."

"Weel, then, ye will hae twa, for here comes a lad wi' the heifer we ca' Spot. Did ye think I would forget my auld and tried servant at sic a time as this?"

"Weel, weel, weel! This is wholly unexpectit! Mony thanks to you, Maister Lindsay."

Donald McPherson rejoiced in the good fortune of his neighbor, but he felt somewhat crestfallen that he had brought nothing to give, and he expressed his regret to his host. But Wullie relieved him by saying, with a smile,

"We canna a' gie presents, Donald, but we can a' gie gude wishes, and I am sure ye gie me them, neebor."

The evening passed in pleasant talk, and when these neighbors separated it was with a kindly feeling towards each other that is often wanting in the higher circles of life.

Honest Wullie continued to prosper, though in a small way. The years glided by, bringing nothing but pleasing changes, the most pleasing of which was the birth of a son. Jamie had long since left his uncle's knee to younger claimants. He was a strong, healthy lad, possessing his father's wit and sprightliness, and also uncommon beauty. His mother's eyes often rested on him with maternal fondness, if not with pride. He found plenty to do in collecting fuel, helping with the garden, and doing the work in and around the cow-shed. He attended the little parish school a few months in the year. He was fond of books, too, although there was nothing in his surroundings to foster a love of study. True, Farmer Lindsay once patted him on the head, and said, "If ye could stand a fair chance, Jamie, ye would mak a man no to be ashamed o';" and the schoolmaster sometimes gave him the praise he merited. But the days came and went, bringing him nearer to the time when he must be put to steady employment to help to defray the expenses of the family, with which time we will open the next chapter.