fields; but what with the dairy and the house-work, and after a little
while the wool, she had plenty to do. There were two more cows in the
enlarged pasture, and some of the people who were busy about the new
house took their meals with them, so there was little time for lingering
over anything. Besides, the house-work, which in the busy seasons had
seemed a secondary concern, was done differently now. Shenac took pride
and pleasure in doing everything in the very best way, and in having the
house in order, the linen snow-white, and the table neatly laid; and the
little log-house was a far pleasanter home than many a more commodious
dwelling.

If there had lingered in Angus Dhu's heart any indignation towards
Shenac for having interfered with his plans, and for having spoken her
mind to him so plainly, it was gone now. They had no more frequent
visitor than he, and few who were more welcome. His coming was for
Allister's sake, his sister used to think; and, indeed, the old man
seemed to see no fault in the young farmer. He gave him his confidence
as he had never given it to any one before. After the first meeting he
never spoke of what Allister had done for him in bringing Evan home, but
he knew it was through his care and tenderness that he had ever seen his
son's face again, and he was deeply grateful.

There was another reason why he found pleasure in the young man's
society. He had loved Allister's father when they had been young
together, before the love of money had hardened his heart and blinded
his eyes. His long trouble and fear for his son had made him feel that
wealth is not enough to give peace. It had shaken his faith in the "god
of this world;" and as God's blessing on his sorrow softened his heart,
the worldly crust fell away, and he came back to his old thoughts--or
rather, I should say, his young thoughts of life again.

Allister was just what his father had been at his age--as gentle, as
manly, and kind-hearted; having, besides, the strength of character, the
knowledge of men and things, which his father had lacked. He had always
been a bold, frank lad. Even in the old times he had never stood in awe
of "the dour old man," as the rest had done. In the old times his
frankness had been resented as an unwarrantable liberty; but it was very
different now. Even his own children felt a little restraint in the
presence of the stern old man; but Allister always greeted him
cheerfully, talked