and made at home; an old blue dress coat with bright buttons; a
drab waistcoat which had once been yellow; and to crown all, a red
woollen nightcap, hanging down on one side with a tassel.

"Weel, Grizzie!" he said, in a gentle, rather sad voice, as if the
days of his mourning were not yet ended, "I'm ower sune the day!"

He never passed Grizzie without greeting her, and Grizzie's
devotion to him was like that of slave and sister mingled.

"Na, laird," she answered, "ye can never be ower sune for yer ain
fowk, though ye may be for yer ain stamack. The taties winna be
lang bilin' the day. They're some sma'."

"That's because you pare them so much, Grizzie," said the
grandmother.

Grizzie vouchsafed no reply.

The moment young Cosmo saw whose shadow darkened the doorway, he
rose in haste, and standing with his hand upon the arm of the
chair, waited for his father to seat himself in it. The laird
acknowledged his attention with a smile, sat down, and looked like
the last sitter grown suddenly old. He put out his hand to the boy
across the low arm of the chair, and the boy laid his hand in his
father's, and so they remained, neither saying a word. The laird
leaned back, and sat resting. All were silent.

Notwithstanding the oddity of his dress, no one who had any
knowledge of humanity could have failed to see in Cosmo Warlock,