The snow whirled against her in gusts, clinging to her hair, and filling her eyes and nostrils. Exhaustion was overpowering her. And still how many miles? Each of the benches that she passed was a fresh temptation; and at last she dropped on one, too tired to stand, wet and shivering, and shielding her face from the storm. She dropped on it like any tramp or stray. Having held out to the uttermost, she did not know whether she would ever get up again--did not think about it, and did not care. Her limbs ached for relief, and she seized it on the high-road because relief on the high-road was the only kind attainable. And it was while she cowered there that another figure appeared in the twilight, the figure of a tall old man carrying a black bag. He came smartly down a footpath, gazing to right and left as for something that should be waiting for him. Not seeing it, he whistled, and Mary looked up. A trap was backed from the corner of the road. Then the man with the bag stared at her, and after an instant of hesitation, he spoke. "It's a dirty nicht," he said, "for ye tae be sittin' there. I'm thinking ye're no' weel?" "Not very," she said. He inspected her undecidedly. "An' ye'll tak' your death o' cold if ye dinna get up, it's verra certain. Hoots! ye're shakin' wi' it noo! Bide a wee, an' I'll put some warmth intae ye, young leddy." Without any more ado, he deposited the bag at her side and opened it. And, astonishing to relate, the black bag was fitted with a number of little bottles, one of which he extracted, with a glass. "Is it medicine?" she asked wonderingly. "Medicine?" he echoed; "nae, it's nae medicine; it's 'Four Diamonds S.O.P.' I'm gi'en ye. It's a braw sample o' Pilcher's S.O.P., ma lassie; nothin' finer in the trade, on the honour o' Macpheerson! Noo ye drink that doon; it's speerit, an' it'll dae ye guid." She took his advice, gulping the spirit while he watched her approvingly. Its strength diffused itself through her in ripples of heat, raising her courage, and yet, oddly enough, making her want to cry. Mr. Macpherson contemplated the little bottle solemnly, shaking his head at it with something that sounded like a sigh. "An' whaur may ye be goin'?" he queried, replacing the cork. "I am going to town," she answered. "I was walking home, only the storm----" "Tae toon? Will ye no' ha'e a lift along o' me an' the lad? I'll drive ye intae toon." "Have you to go there?" she asked, over-joyed. "There'd be th' de'il tae pay if I stayed awa'. Ay, I ha'e tae gang there, and as fast as the mare can trot. Will ye let me help ye in?" "Yes," she said; "thank you very much." He hoisted her up. And she and her strange companion, accompanied by an urchin who never uttered a word, made a brisk start. "I am so much obliged to you," she murmured, rejoicing; "you don't know!" "There's nae call for ony obleegation; it's verra welcome ye are. I'm thinkin' the sample did ye a lot o' guid, eh?"