“The warst laddie o' the lot,” and Jamie seemed to be speaking to the ceiling of his bed, “is Tammie Baxter. It's maist aggravatin' that he sud leave 'a lairge paper kite in a sick body's bed, an' me wantin' tae turn roond.” The kite projected itself forward from dark recesses in all its glory of many and very loud colours. “It's rael bonnie,” was all that Tammie offered by way of thanks, as he took possession of his prize amid general envy. “A' wudna say but there micht be sugar-candy in the cupboard,” continued Jamie in a soliloquy, and a rush for the door was stayed. “Annie Mitchell 'ill divide it fair, an' a'm expeckin' a kiss.” “Are ye near weel?” she said, when the debt was paid after a generous fashion. “Mither wants tae ken.” “Tell her a'm juist gettin' on fine, an' a'll be a' richt in twa or three days.” Elspeth reported the proceedings with the kite, and Jamie was full of anxiety. “Tell Tammie tae pit on a heavier clod and keep tuggin',” till a shout came in through the door. “It's near oot o' sicht,” and then Jamie was at peace. “Bairns are an' awfu' trachle (trouble),” he moralised; “a' canna mak oot hoo fouk pit up wi' them; that lassie Mitchell is juist a hempie.” Next morning Jamie declined conversation, and lay to all appearance unconscious, so that when the Free Kirk minister came, between whom and Jamie there had been a special friendship since the day Carmichael had declared his conviction on Posty's future state, Elspeth led him in on tip-toe and spoke in a whisper. “Ou aye, a' kent ye wud be concerned, for you an' he were chief (friendly); he's been this wy a' day, naither better nor worse; juist leevin' that's a'; he 'ill never speak again.” “I have been at the Glasgow sacrament,” and Carmichael went over to the fire-place; “else I would have come up before. Jamie has always been very kind to me. It 's sad to see him lying there speechless, who had the cleverest tongue in the Glen.” “Ay, ay, he 's past speech noo; he hears naething.” “Wes 't a vawcancy ye were preachin' in,” a loud, clear voice proceeded from the bed, “or juist helpin' a freend?” “Preserve's a' body an' soul,” cried Elspeth; and Carmichael himself was shaken. “We thought you were unconscious, Jamie; I 'm glad you can still take an interest in things.” “There 's been a gey lot o' havers (nonsense) gaein' in this hoose the laist twal 'oors, but a' didna let on; na, na, a' enjoyed it.” Kirsty Stewart came to share the night watch with Elspeth, but neither presumed till nearly daybreak, when Kirsty declared, with the just weight of her medical authority, that all was over. “He hes the look, an' his hands are as cold as ice; feel his feet, wumman.” “A' canna find them,” said Elspeth, making timid explorations. “They used tae be on the end o' ma legs,” remarked Jamie, as if uncertain where they might now be placed. Elspeth started back and looked at him, but his eyes were closed, and he gave no other sign of consciousness.