"Mither and father baith!"

The little man rose to his feet and flung the photograph from him.
Red Wull pounced upon it; but M'Adam leapt at him as he
mouthed it.

"Git awa', ye devil!" he screamed; and, picking it up, stroked it
lovingly with trembling fingers.

"Maither and father baith!"

How had he fulfilled his love's last wish? How!

"Oh God! "--and he fell upon his knees at the table-side, hugging
the picture, sobbing and praying.

Red Wull cowered in the far corner of the room, and then crept
whining up to where his master knelt. But M'Adam heeded him
not, and the great dog slunk away again.

There the little man knelt in the gloom of the winter's afternoon, a
miserable penitent. His gray-flecked head was bowed upon his
arms; his hands clutched the picture; and he prayed aloud in
gasping, halting tones.

"Gie me grace, O God! 'Father and mither baith,' ye said, Flora--
and I ha'na done it.

But 'tis no too late--say it's no, lass. Tell me there's time yet, and
say ye forgie me. I've tried to bear wi' him mony and mony a time.