Then some changes took place on the estate.  And the cottage where she had lived so long must be given up.  And the dear old woman had to make new plans.  And she cudgeled her old head, and thought, and at last she said to herself, “I know what I’ll do.  I’ll go-up to London, and I’ll live with Laddie.  He’ll be so glad to have me.”  And bright-coloured visions flitted through her mind, as she sat over her tea by the open grate.  But she wouldn’t send him word; no, no, she would surprise him, and add to his pleasure.

And the dear old soul, in her fine simplicity, did not think into what this would mean, nor of the difference that had grown up with the years, in manner of life, between her son and herself.  He was a cultured gentleman, with his well-appointed city home, and the circle of friends that had grown up about him.  And she was a simple uncultured country woman with a broad provincial twist on her tongue.  But she was blissfully unconscious of this.  She would go and live with her Laddie.  It would be so delightful for them both.

And so she went.  It was her first train journey, and quite a time of it she had finding the house.  But at last she stands looking up at the house.  “Ugh! does my Laddie live here! in this great mansion?” But there was the name on the door-plate.  There was no mistaking that.  And so she rang the bell.  “Is the doctor in?” She could hardly get the word “doctor” out.  She had never called him that before, just Laddie.  But now she must say it.  “Is the doctor in?” And the word almost stuck in her throat as she thought to herself, “This poor man opening the door doesn’t know that the ‘doctor’ really belongs to me.”

But in a hard voice the servant said that it was past the hours.  She couldn’t see the doctor.

“Ah! bat,” she said, quite taken by surprise at being held there, “I must see him.”

“But, I tell you, it’s quite too late to see him to-day.”

But she resolutely put her stout country-boot in the crack of the door, and her English jaw set in true English fashion, and she said with that quietness that has the subtle touch of danger in it, “I’ll see the doctor.”

And the servant looked puzzled and went to report about this strangely insistent woman.  And the doctor was annoyed by the interruption in the midst of something that was absorbing him.  He said sharply, “It’s past the hours; I can see no one.”

“I told her so, sir,” replied the man deferentially, “but she insists in a strange way, sir.”

“What’s she like?”

“Oh, just a plain country body, sir.”

“Well, show her up.”

And I am glad to remember that she had a warm embrace of his strong arms, as he instantly recognized her in the doorway, while the servant stared.  Then he said rather nervously as the servant discreetly withdrew, “How did yon happen to come?  Why didn’t you send word?  Has anything happened?” And then as she sat by the fire sipping a cup of tea, she told the story, in her own simple slow way, and ended up with, “And now I’m coming to live with you, Laddie.”  And the old eyes behind the spectacles beamed, and the dear old wrinkled face glowed.