The Making of a Minister 15

retorted, sternly, “ Nor will I, for fine I see through
ou.

: These two were as one far more than most mar-
ried people, and, just as Gavin in his childhood
reflected his mother, she now reflected him. The
people for whom she sewed thought it was contact
with them that had rubbed the broad Scotch from
her tongue, but she was only keeping pace with
Gavin. When she was excited the Harvie words
came back to her, as they come back to me. I
have taught the English language all my life, and
I try to write it, but everything I say in this book
I first think to myself in the Doric. This, too, I
notice, that in talking to myself I am broader than
when gossiping with the farmers of the glen, who
send their children to me to learn English, and
then jeer at them if they say “old lights” instead
of “ auld lichts.”

To Margaret it was happiness to sit through
the long evenings sewing, and look over her work
at Gavin as he read or wrote or recited to himself
the learning of the schools. But she coughed
every time the weather changed, and then Gavin
would start.

“You must go to your bed, mother,” he would
say, tearing himself from his books ; or he would
sit beside her and talk of the dream that was
common to both,—a dream of a manse where
Margaret was mistress and Gavin was called the
rainister. Every night Gavin was at his mother’s
bedside to wind her shawl round her feet, and
while he did it Margaret smiled.

“* Mother, this is the chaff pillow you’ve taken
out of my bed, and given me your feather one.”