It was a part of Davie's simple nature that he accepted it without any
further protestation. Instinctively he felt that it was the highest
compliment he could pay his brother. It was as if he said: "I firmly
believed the promise you made me more than forty years ago, and I firmly
believe in the love and sincerity which this day redeems it." So Davie
looked with a curious joyfulness at the vouchers which testified to
fifteen thousand dollars lying in the Chemical Bank, New York, to the
credit of David Morrison; and then he said, with almost the delight of a
schoolboy:

"And what will you do wi' yours, Sandy?"

"I am going to buy a farm in New Jersey, Davie. I was talking with Mr.
Black about it this morning. It will cost twelve thousand dollars, but
the gentleman says it will be worth double that in a very few years. I
think that myself, Davie, for I went yesterday to take a good look at
it. It is never well to trust to other folks' eyes, you know."

"Then, Sandy, I'll go shares wi' you. We'll buy the farm together and
we'll live together--that is, if you would like it."

"What would I like better?"

"Maybe you have a wife, and then--"

"No, I have no wife, Davie. She died nearly thirty years ago. I have no
one but you."

"And we will grow small fruits, and raise chickens and have the finest