laddie, I am your mither!"

She tucked the coarse scarf she had knit for him closer over his chest
and pulled his cap lower over his ears, but Freckles, whipping it
off and holding it under his arm, caught her rough, reddened hand and
pressed it to his lips in a long kiss. Then he hurried away to hide the
happy, embarrassing tears that were coming straight from his swelling
heart.

Mrs. Duncan, sobbing unrestrainedly, swept into the adjoining room and
threw herself into Duncan's arms.

"Oh, the puir lad!" she wailed. "Oh, the puir mither-hungry lad! He
breaks my heart!"

Duncan's arms closed convulsively around his wife. With a big, brown
hand he lovingly stroked her rough, sorrel hair.

"Sarah, you're a guid woman!" he said. "You're a michty guid woman! Ye
hae a way o' speakin' out at times that's like the inspired prophets of
the Lord. If that had been put to me, now, I'd 'a' felt all I kent how
to and been keen enough to say the richt thing; but dang it, I'd 'a'
stuttered and stammered and got naething out that would ha' done onybody
a mite o' good. But ye, Sarah! Did ye see his face, woman? Ye sent him
off lookin' leke a white light of holiness had passed ower and settled
on him. Ye sent the lad away too happy for mortal words, Sarah. And
ye made me that proud o' ye! I wouldna trade ye an' my share o' the
Limberlost with ony king ye could mention."

He relaxed his clasp, and setting a heavy hand on each shoulder, he