Souter shook his head. “Ye’d better take no chances,” he retorted calmly. “I may change my mind,” and he carefully knocked the ashes out of his pipe and put it in his pocket. “You impatient man!” fluttered Eppy. “I—I—come over and we’ll talk about it. Good-by, laddie,” and she tripped daintily off down the path toward the gate. Then Souter sat down on the seat under the big tree beside the house. “Souter Johnny,” he said to himself, “ye’re a devil with the wimmen, mon,” and a smile of self-satisfaction stole over his wrinkled face. “Souter Johnny!” panted Eppy, running back to him breathlessly, “I’ve changed my mind.” Souter jumped to his feet in sudden terror. Had he lost her after all, or rather, had he lost the home across the way? “W—what, do you mean?” he stammered. “I mean—you—you—may bring the minister,” she gasped, and away she fluttered down the walk before he could recover from his astonishment. “Hurrah! your fortune is made, Souter Johnny!” he cried aloud, when the meaning of her words had dawned upon him, and he threw his bonnet high in the air. “Ye’ll nae hae to cobble shoes any mair, noo, for ye’ll be lord of the manor house, wi’ servants to wait on ye. Oh, the power of money! ye’ll ride out in your fine carriage, Souter, and as ye drive by, all the neighbors will be bowing and scraping to ye. I can see them noo. ’Twill be ‘Mr. MacDougall, will ye do us the honor to call at the castle; her ladyship would be pleased to see you.’ Then I’ll say to them that snubbed me when I was poor, ‘Weel, noo, ’tis very busy I am, attending to my estates and other social duties. Tell her grace that Mr. and Mrs. MacDougall will be pleased to have her visit us at MacDougall House, if she cares to meet us.’” And he stalked along majestically to the house with his head held proudly erect. “Noo, I’ll find the minister and make sure of my bird.” Arriving at the door of the cottage, he stopped, and addressing an imaginary butler, said pompously, “James, open the door, your master wishes to enter! Thank ye! Noo take my hat! Noo ye may go!” With a chuckle of delight he quietly opened the door and composing his features into their natural expression, entered the cottage and made his way to the kitchen, where he found a bowl of porridge awaiting him, which he hungrily devoured. Meanwhile in the other room Robert lay tossing feverishly upon his bed. Jean sat beside him smoothing his pillow from time to time, and soothing his anguished mind with words of love and encouragement. “Blessings on your faithful head, Jean,” he murmured gratefully. “You’re the best, truest wife that erring mortal man ever had.” She flushed with pleasure at his words of praise. “Oh, this accursed rheumatism,” he groaned. “How it shackles one, making one as much a prisoner as though a ball and chain were attached to his ankle.” “But you are much better to-day,” said Jean brightly. “For a while only. I fear me this is my fatal illness,” he replied despondently.