So she reasoned, as one taught by observation and experience; for most people in country villages--now as then--are apt to be seized with panic in the presence of any disease pronounced to be dangerous and contagious. Its mystery affects their imagination. It looks like a doom that cannot be averted; very purpose of God, to oppose which is vain. To procure, therefore, a nurse for the sick, except among near relations, is extremely difficult; unless it be some worthless creature who will drink the wine intended for the patient, or consume the delicacies left for his nourishment. We have known, when cholera broke out in a county town in Scotland, a stranger nurse refused even lodgings in any house within it, lest she should spread the disease! It was a chill and gusty evening, and Katie sat beside the fire in the Sergeant’s room, her mind full of "hows" and "whens", and tossed to and fro by anxiety about her Adam, and questionings as to what she should or could do for his comfort. The rising wind shook the bushes and tree-tops in the little garden. The dust in clouds hurried along the street of the village. The sky was dark with gathering signs of rain. There was a depressing sadness in the world without, and little cheer in the room within. The Sergeant lay in a sort of uneasy restless doze, sometimes tossing his hands, starting up and asking where he was, and then falling back again on his pillow with a heavy sigh. Although his wife was not seriously alarmed, she was nevertheless very miserable at heart, and felt utterly lonely. But for her quiet faith in God, and the demand made upon her for active exertion, she would have yielded to passionate grief, or fallen into sullen despair. Her thoughts were suddenly disturbed by little Mary telling her that someone was at the street door. Bidding Mary take her place, she hastened to the kitchen and opened the door. Jock Hall entered in his usual unceremonious way. "Ye needna speak, Mrs. Mercer," he said as he sat down on a chair near the door; "I ken a’ aboot it!" Katie was as much startled as she was the first time he entered her house. His appearance as to dress and respectability was, however, unquestionably improved. "Jock Hall, as I declare!" exclaimed Katie in a whisper. "The same, at yer service; and yet no’ jist the same," replied Jock, in as low a voice. "Ye may say sae," said Katie. "What’s come ower ye? Whaur hae ye been? Whaur got ye thae claes? Ye’re like a gentleman, Jock!" "I houp sae," replied Hall; "I oucht to be sae; I gat a’ this frae Adam." "The guidman?" inquired Katie; "that’s impossible! He never had claes like thae!" "Claes or no claes," said Jock, "it’s him I got them frae." "I dinna understan’ hoo that could be," said Katie. "Nor me," said Jock, "but _sae_ it is, and never speer the noo _hoo_ it is. I’m come, as usual, on business." "Say awa’," said Katie, "but speak laigh. It’s no’ shoon ye’re needin’, I houp?"