oked whiter and thinner than before
the minister's visit, and his movements were painfully slow. There was
something more serious than a persistent cough undermining Duncan
Polite's health.

But there was no word or look of complaint from him. He went about his
work as usual, tidying the room, and stirring the pot of oatmeal
porridge which was cooking for his supper. His habits were of the
simplest; a bowl of oatmeal, or pease brose, and a pitcher of milk
sufficed for his supper as well as for his breakfast. He set the
frugal meal upon the bare pine table, then lit his one small lamp,
which had been well trimmed and polished, and pulled down the green
paper window blinds. He noticed there was still a brightness over the
eastern heavens, though the colours of the sunset had faded. Duncan
shut out the world and sat down to his lonely meal. Collie lay quietly
at his feet, waiting his turn, giving an occasional thump of his tail
upon the floor, to remind his master that he was hungry; but when
Duncan bowed his head over the repast for a few moments, the dog lay
motionless until he raised it again. The dancing light from the wide
damper of the old stove and the rays of the little lamp could not
penetrate to the corners of the room, but they lit up Duncan's white,
patient face and his silver hair, and shone on the glass doors of his
cupboard, revealing the rows of shining dishes, and threw into relief
the bare dark rafters of the ceiling.

Duncan stirred his porridge absently. His appetite had been poor all
winter, and to-night he could not eat. He sat staring ahead of him
with sad, unseeing eyes. Suddenly Collie raised his head and sniffed
suspiciously. A quick bounding footstep was crunching the snow on the
little pathway to the gate. The dog leaped up with a joyous bark and
the next instant the door flew open, and a young man burst into the
room.

Duncan arose, speechless with joy and surprise at the sight of the
stalwart figure and handsome face. "Donal'!" was all he could say.

"Hello, Uncle!" the boy cried in his old ringing tones, catching the
old man's hand and shaking it violently; then he put a hand upon his
uncle's shoulder and stepped back from him. "Why, you never told me
you were sick!" he cried sharply.

"Hoots, toots!" exclaimed Duncan, laughing from sheer joy. "It will be
jist a bit of a cold. Eh, eh, and we would not be expecting you till
to-morrow, and your mother would be telling the