Lachlan did not see the minister coming, for he was busy with a lamb
that had lost its way and hurt itself. Carmichael marked with a
growing tenderness at his heart how gently the old man washed and
bound up the wounded leg, all the time crooning to the frightened
creature in the sweet Gaelic speech, and also how he must needs give
the lamb a drink of warm milk before he set it free.

When he rose from his work of mercy, he faced the minister.

For an instant Lachlan hesitated, and then at the look on
Carmichael's face he held out both his hands.

"This iss a goot day for me, and I bid you ten thousand welcomes."

But the minister took the first word.

"You and I, Lachlan, have not seen eye to eye about some things
lately, and I am not here to argue which is nearer the truth,
because perhaps we may always differ on some lesser matters. But
once I spoke rudely to you, and often I have spoken unwisely in my
sermons. You are an old man and I am a young, and I ask you to
forgive me and to pray that both of us may be kept near the heart of
our Lord, whom we love, and who loves us."

No man can be so courteous as a Celt, and Lachlan was of the pure
Highland breed, kindest of friends, fiercest of foes.

"You hef done a beautiful deed this day, Maister Carmichael; and the
grace of God must hef been exceeding abundant in your heart. It iss
this man that asks your forgiveness, for I wass full of pride, and