“Ye 'ill surely tak a 'look roond the fields first, Doctor, an' tell's what ye think o' the crops;” and after that it was necessary for him to take tea. Again and again he was foiled, but he took a firm stand by the hydrangea in the garden, where he had given them Lord Kilspindie's message, and John Baxter stood aside that the affair might be decided in single combat. “Now, Mrs. Baxter, before leaving I must insist,” began the Doctor with authority, and his stick was in his hand; but Jean saw a geographical advantage, and seized it instantly. “Div ye mind, sir, comin' tae this gairden five year syne this month, and stannin' on that verra spot aside the hydrangy?” The Doctor scented danger, but he could not retreat. “Weel, at ony rate, John an' me dinna forget that day, an' never wull, for we were makin' ready tae leave the home o' the Baxters for mony generations wi' a heavy heart, an' it wes you that stoppit us. Ye'ill maybe no mind what ye said tae me.” “We 'ill not talk of that to-day, Mrs. Baxter... that's past and over.” “Aye, it's past, but it's no over, Doctor Davidson; na, na, John an' me wesna made that wy Ye may lauch at a fulish auld wife, but ilka kirnin' (churning) day ye veesit us again. When a'm turnin' the kirn a see ye comin' up the road as ye did that day, an' a gar the handle keep time wi' yir step; when a tak oot the bonnie yellow butter ye're stannin' in the gairden, an' then a stamp ae pund wi' buttercups, an' a say, 'You're not away yet, Bumbrae, you're not away yet'--that wes yir word tae the gude man; and when the ither stamp comes doon on the second pund and leaves the bonnie daisies on't, 'Better late than never, Bumbrae; better late than never, Bumbrae.' Ye said that afore ye left, Doctor.” Baxter was amazed at his wife, and the Doctor saw himself defeated. “Mony a time hes John an' me sat in the summer-hoose an' brocht back that day, an' mony a time hev we wantit tae dae somethin' for him that keepit the auld roof-tree abune oor heads. God forgie me, Doctor, but when a heard ye hed gien up yir glebe ma hert loupit, an' a said tae John, 'The 'ill no want for butter at the manse sae lang as there's a Baxter in Bumbrae.' “Dinna be angry, sir,” but the flush that brought the Doctor's face unto a state of perfection was not anger. “A ken it's a leeberty we're takin* an' maybe a'm presumin' ower far, but gin ye kent hoo sair oor herts were wi' gratitude ye wudna deny us this kindness.” “Ye 'ill lat the Doctor come awa noo, gude wife, tae see the young horse,” and Doctor Davidson was grateful to Burnbrae for covering his retreat.