“Ye see,” explained Robert gratefully, “I expect a few pounds from the sale of a poem, which will relieve my temporary embarrassment, and if the commissioners grant me full salary, I can start for the seaside, where I may regain my lost health.” He passed his hand wearily over his brow, which began to pain him, for the excitement had worn him out. “But I fear that has flown from me forever, that the voice of the Bard will soon be heard among ye no mair.” “Nonsense!” replied Mackenzie brightly, putting his hand affectionately on Robert’s shoulder. “You will live for years yet, but you must take better care of this life which is so valuable to your family, to your friends and to the world.” There was deep concern in his pleasant voice and in his earnest eyes. At that moment the street door opened and Eppy appeared dressed youthfully in white, leading by the hand none other than Souter Johnny, who was looking decidedly crestfallen and sheepish, as he vainly tried to pull down his little short kilt over his thin, bony legs, for Souter was at last arrayed in full kilts, much to his evident sorrow. He looked exceedingly grotesque, squeezed into the suit, which was too small even for his undersized frame. “In the name of!—Souter Johnny, what means this?” gasped Robert in amazement. “Canna’ a man wear the kilts without being laughed at?” answered Souter ruefully, resenting the amused look on their faces. “Well, I must say ye look better in breeches,” observed Rob with a quizzical glance at Souter’s grotesquely thin crooked legs. “He wears them for my sake,” explained Eppy with a soulful look at the uncomfortable Souter; then she spied the visitors. “Why, Mr. Mackenzie, it is good to see you here!” she exclaimed effusively, and she made him a deep courtesy, purposely ignoring Sir William. “Daft as ever,” grunted Sir William audibly. She regarded him with a haughty look of disdain. “Daft!” she repeated. “Huh! you cannot insult me now with impunity!” she exclaimed in triumph. Turning to Souter, she called him to her side with a commanding gesture. “Noo, ye see, Robert, what has become of my breeches,” whispered Souter in Robert’s ear as he passed him. “She is wearing them,” and he winked his eye significantly. As he approached her, she reached out a long arm and drew him to her so suddenly that it took him off his feet. Finally he righted himself and stood close beside her, his little gray head, with the bonnet perched saucily on one side of it, scarcely reaching to her shoulder. “Friends,” she announced proudly, “this gentleman is my—my husband,” and she noticed with pleasure the look of consternation which appeared on all their faces. “What!” cried Robert aghast. “You’re married!” ejaculated Mr. Mackenzie incredulously. “Poor man,” sneered Sir William mockingly. Eppy tittered gleefully. “Yes, I was married to-day, and ’tis heavenly,” and she rolled her eyes in an ecstasy of joy.