“If we’re tae dee, we’re tae dee; an’ if we’re tae live, we’re tae live,” concluded Elspeth, with sound Calvinistic logic; “but a’ ‘ll say this for the doctor, that, whether yir tae live or dee, he can aye keep up a sharp meisture on the skin. “But he’s no verra ceevil gin ye bring him when there’s naethin’ wrang,” and Mrs. Macfadyen’s face reflected another of Mr. Hopps’s misadventures of which Hillocks held the copyright. “Hopps’s laddie ate grosarts (gooseberries) till they hed to sit up a’ nicht wi’ him, an’ naethin’ wud do but they maum hae the doctor, an’ he writes ‘immediately’ on a slip o’ paper. “Weel, MacLure had been awa’ a’ nicht wi’ a shepherd’s wife Dunleith wy, and he comes here withoot drawin’ bridle, mud up tae the een. “‘What’s adae here, Hillocks?’ he cries; ‘it’s no an accident, is ‘t?’ and when he got aff his horse he cud hardly stand wi’ stiffness and tire. “‘It’s nane o’ us, doctor; it’s Hopps’s laddie; he’s been eatin’ ower-mony berries.’ “If he didna turn on me like a tiger! “‘Div ye mean tae say--’ “‘Weesht, weesht,’ an’ I tried tae quiet him, for Hopps wes coomin’ oot. “‘Well, doctor,’ begins he, as brisk as a magpie, ‘you’re here at last; there’s no hurry with you Scotchmen. My boy has been sick all night, and I’ve never had a wink of sleep. You might have come a little quicker, that’s all I’ve got to say.’ “‘We’ve mair tae dae in Drumtochty than attend tae every bairn that hes a sair stomach,’ and a’ saw MacLure was roosed. “‘I’m astonished to hear you speak. Our doctor at home always says to Mrs. ‘Opps, “Look on me as a family friend, Mrs. ‘Opps, and send for me though it be only a headache.”’ “‘He’d be mair spairin’ o’ his offers if he hed four and twenty mile tae look aifter. There’s naethin’ wrang wi’ yir laddie but greed. Gie him a gud dose o’ castor-oil and stop his meat for a day, an’ he ‘ill be a’richt the morn.’ “‘He ‘ill not take castor-oil, doctor. We have given up those barbarous medicines.’ “‘Whatna kind o’ medicines hae ye noo in the Sooth?’ “‘Well, you see Dr. MacLure, we’re homoeopathists, and I’ve my little chest here,’ and oot Hopps comes wi’ his boxy. “‘Let’s see ‘t,’ an’ MacLure sits doon and tak’s oot the bit bottles, and he reads the names wi’ a lauch every time. “‘Belladonna; did ye ever hear the like? Aconite; it cowes a’. Nux vomica. What next? Weel, ma mannie,’ he says tae Hopps, ‘it’s a fine ploy, and ye ‘ill better gang on wi’ the nux till it’s dune, and gie him ony ither o’ the sweeties he fancies. “‘Noo, Hillocks, a’ maun be aff tae see Drumsheugh’s grieve, for he’s doon wi’ the fever, and it’s tae be a teuch fecht. A’ hinna time tae wait for dinner; gie me some cheese an’ cake in ma haund, and Jess ‘ill take a pail o’ meal an’ water. “‘Fee? A’ ‘m no wantin’ yir fees, man; wi’ that boxy ye dinna need a doctor; na, na, gie yir siller tae some puir body, Maister Hopps,’ an’ he was doon the road as hard as he cud lick.”