“Hunger and want can humble the most independent spirit,” returned Jean sadly. She rose and walked to the window and looked out into the twilight with searching, anxious eyes. “Posty should bring us an answer to-night,” she murmured. “An’ he will,” cried Robert hopefully, “for Thompson willna’ disappoint me, for he kens I am in sore straits.” “Heaven bless him!” cried Jean fervently. CHAPTER XXII The next day our hero was in better health and spirits, and insisted upon being up and dressed. Jean, not without secret misgivings, got him into his clothes and helped him to the rocking-chair, which she had drawn up to the open window. For a while he sat there in silent content, bathed in the warm, golden light of the morning sun, whose genial beams seemed to infuse new vigor into his languid frame, while the gentle summer wind blew upon him with its exhilarating, refreshing warmth. After Jean had performed her household duties she returned to find him playing happily with their two boys, telling them tale after tale, while they sat perched on either arm of the big rocker, their eyes popping out of their round, healthy faces with excited interest. He looked up as she entered and smiled into her anxious face. “Do not tire yourself, Robert,” she cautioned him gently. “Come, lads, run out doors and play a wee, your father is tired.” But they clung to him affectionately. “One mair story,” they pleaded. “Tell us aboot Tam O’Shanter’s ride!” commanded Robert, Jr., gravely. Jean sat down while he recited the stirring tale, and watched her husband with eyes aglow with love and pity. How changed he was, she thought with a sigh. What havoc had been wrought in that sturdy frame, that fine constitution, in the once ringing tones of his musical voice. Alas, all had flown, but with God’s help she would win him back to health and strength once more, she told herself with resolute determination. As he finished he kissed the earnest faces held up to his with such worshipful affection, and with a serious “Thank ye, father,” they turned and marched quietly out of the room and into the open air, and soon their childish treble floated in through the open window, bringing a smile of amused affection to the faces of their parents. “Now, Robert, ye must be tired out,” remarked Jean presently. “Will ye not try and get a nappie?” “In a wee, Jean,” he answered, looking out of the window thoughtfully. “Then you must have a bittie of gruel now,” she said, rising and going toward the door. “Nay, nay, Jean, I thank ye, but I canna’ eat nor drink nor sleep just at present.” “Then try and take a nappie,” she insisted, smoothing the pillows and sheets in anxious preparation. “A little later, Jean,” he replied a trifle impatiently. She sighed patiently. “Then I’ll leave ye for a while,” and she walked toward the door. “Ye’re quite comfortable?” she asked. He nodded. Slowly she closed the door upon him and applied herself to the task of getting the midday meal.