for herself, while her husband
crept in and out, quiet, resourceful, comforting, full of unselfish
compassion. Margot had hard work to keep back her own tears, as he
clumsily pressed his own services upon her, picking up odd garments,
folding them carefully in the wrong way, and rummaging awkwardly through
the drawers.

The trap was to be ready to start by twelve o'clock, and ten minutes
before the time Margot carried a sponge and basin of water to the
bedside, bathed the poor, tear-stained face, brushed the straggling
locks of grey hair, and helped to fasten bonnet and cloak. It was
pathetic to see the helplessness into which grief had stricken this
capable, bustling woman. She lifted her chin, to allow the strings of
her bonnet to be tied by Margot's hands, and sat meekly while the
"dolman" was hooked. It was like dressing a big docile baby; like a
child, too, the manner in which she clung to her husband's arm down the
narrow stair.

Mrs McNab was standing below in the lobby, her hard face flushed to an
unnatural red. She held a basket in her hand filled with dainty paper
packages containing fruit, sandwiches, and cakes. Unable to voice her
sympathy, she had put it into deeds, striving to ensure some comfort for
the long journey ahead.

Mrs Macalister smiled a pitiful travesty of a smile in acknowledgment,
and her friends pressed her hand, mercifully refraining from speech.
When it came to parting from Margot, however, that was a different
matter. Mrs Macalister stooped from the seat of the trap to kiss the
girl's cheek once and again.

"You're a guid lassie," she said, trembling. "I would have been lost
without you! The Lord bless you, my dear!"

"Ay! and she _shall_ be blessed!" added Mr Macalister's voice, deeply.

Margot thrilled at the sound of those words, and stood back on the path
watching the departing wheels through a mist of tears. They had gone,
those two good, loving, simple creatures, and in all likelihood she
would never see them again; for a moment their lives had touched, but
the currents had swept them apart; they were as ships that had passed in
the night. To the end of time, however, she must be the better for the
meeting, for in their need they had leant upon her, and she had been
able to help. They had blessed her in patriarchal fashion, and the
sound of their words still rang in her ears--

"The Lord bless you!"

"Ay! and she _shall_ be blessed?"

CHAPTER TWENTY.