But he shook his head happily. No, no; Peter was coming over in the morning to look at the north field, and they would just row out as far as Wanda Island and hear the pipes, when the _Inverness_ went past, and they would come back and stay at home with Aunt Kirsty like a pair of sensible old bodies. Roderick managed to catch Lawyer Ed in the office for a few moments in the morning and reported his failure. His chief called him many hard names, as he rushed out to catch a passer-by and make him come to the picnic, and Roderick locked the office door and went down to the wharf. There lay the _Inverness_, her gunwale sinking to the water's edge under her joyous freight, banners flying from every place a banner could be flown, and the band, and Harry Lauder's piper brother making the town and the lake and the woods beyond ring with music. Immediately after Roderick's disappointing message had been delivered, Lawyer Ed rushed down Main Street and spied Afternoon Tea Willie driving the Baldwin girls down town to buy some almond cream to take to the picnic, in case of sunburn. And in his usual high-handed way, he had hailed them, sent the girls home on foot, and the young man spinning out to the McRae farm with stern commands not to dare return without Old Angus. So when Roderick was standing on the wharf talking to Dr. Archie Blair, all resplendent in his kilt he was amazed to see coming down Main Street, the smartest buggy in the town, and in it Alf. Wilbur, driving his father, and more amazing still, by his side sat old Peter, with his fiddle in a case across his knee. They drew up at the edge of the wharf with a splendid flourish, and Afternoon Tea Willie with his innate good manners, sprang out to help the two old men alight with as great deference as if they had been a couple of charming young ladies just come to town. Roderick sprang forward and caught his father's hand as he stepped out, laughing in sheer delight. His eyes were misty with deep feeling. In the first quick glance he had turned upon the faces of the two old men, smiling in a half-ashamed, half-pleased way, like a couple of boys caught running away from school; Roderick had been struck with their strange resemblance. His father's refined face and his white hair had once made an absolute contrast to poor Old Peter's bloated countenance, but with the last half-year, Old Peter's face and form had been undergoing a change. Not since that terrible winter night when he had almost caused the death of his best friend had he fallen. It had been a hard fight sometimes, but the great victory won by the temperance folk on New Year's Day had been a victory for Peter. On the first of May the bar-rooms of Algonquin had closed. And now Peter walked the streets unafraid. And with his new courage and hope, his manhood had returned and he was slowly and surely growing like the man whose life-long devotion had brought him salvation.