There was much for Hamish both to tell and hear on the road, so the afternoon was fading into evening when at last they reached the Scotch Line. They had taken a detour round the Glen, for Scotty did not want to be delayed by more friends. They passed the Weaver's clearing, and Hamish declared how Jimmie and Kirsty were such an agreeable pair as never was, for indeed the two lived in such a state of connubial felicity as was a wonder to all the neighbours. Scotty caught a glimpse of the little path through the cedars, the path where he and Isabel had walked so often in those magic days succeeding Kirsty's wedding. And there was the boiling spring by the roadside where they had so often played, and the pools where they had gathered musk, and yonder in the fence-corner they had built their first house. And then there came a turn in the road and there it was! His old home! It was just the same: the old garden in front with the rose bushes turning green, and the Silver Maple putting forth its pink buds above the roof! And there was Granny at the door, shading her eyes with her hand; and beside her Mary Sandy, Rory's sister-in-law, who was now her help; and Grandaddy, who had been pretending to cut wood all afternoon, still holding the axe in his hand; yes, and even Old Farquhar, bobbing about as excited as any! With the instinct of long custom, Scotty jumped from the vehicle to open the gate, but his trembling fingers refused to pull out the pin, and the next moment he had cleared the bars in one mighty spring, leaving Hamish, helpless with laughter, to shift for himself. Before the gate was open he had charged up the hill like a whirlwind and caught Granny off her feet. And then such a time as there was with talking and hand-shaking and laughter and tears, for even Mary Sandy took to crying out of sympathy with her mistress, and Scotty himself had some work to keep his eyes dry. And no one could hear a word anyone else said, for as the long-absent one crossed the threshold, Old Farquhar burst into loud and joyous song. And what could do justice to the great occasion but "The Grave of Highland Mary"? The old man's voice was strong with excitement, and he drowned both the noise of joyful greeting and the din of the barking dogs as he shouted triumphantly,-- "Then bring me the sigh of a fond lover's bosom And bring me the tear of a fond lover's e'e, And I'll pour them a' doon on thy grave, Highland May-ay-re, For the sake o' thy Bur-urns who sae dearly loved thee!" When the excitement had slightly subsided they had to sit down and partake of such a supper as had never before been set out in that house; for Granny would not listen to such foolish nonsense as that they had eaten at Murphy's. She sat beside her boy, never touching her own food, but heaping his plate, clapping him upon the back and showering upon him all the endearing epithets she knew in a language that is famous for them.