“How are ye a’ keepin’ the night?” inquired Andrew, as he stepped inside at Mrs. Sinclair’s invitation, feeling more and more uncomfortable.  It was a hard enough matter to go and ask others whom he knew had little to spare, but now, having got the money, he did not know how he was going to hand it over to Nellie.  He ruminated for a time as to how he would break into the subject.  He knew that Nellie Sinclair must have heard of the collection, and guessed his errand, for he saw that she, too, was uneasy and agitated.

“How are ye a’ the night?” he again enquired, to break the silence.

“Oh, I’m no’ so bad at a’, Andra,” replied Geordie.  “I’m feelin’ a wee bit easier the night.  How’s yersel’?”

“No’ so bad,” answered Andrew, putting his hand in his pocket for his pipe.

“Dash it!  I’m away without my pipe,” he said with a show of annoyance.  “Can ye len’ me yours, Geordie, to get a smoke?  I ha’e my tobacco and matches.  Ye see,” he went on, speaking more rapidly, “I thought I would just slip round to see how ye was keepin’.”

Andrew knew that Geordie would not have had a smoke for a long time, and this was his way of leaving him with a pipeful of tobacco.

“I think my pipe’s on the mantelshelf,” returned Geordie, “but I doot it’s empty.”

Andrew took down the pipe, filled it generously, set it alight, and sat for a few minutes trying vainly to keep up a connected conversation.  After he had puffed a few minutes at Geordie’s pipe he laid it down, dived his hand into his trousers pocket as he made for the door.  He pulled forth the money, which was in a little bag, and laid it down on the table, saying:  “I’m no’ guid at this kind of thing, Geordie.  There’s something for ye from the men.  Guid nicht!” and he was off, leaving Nellie in tears and Geordie in glum silence.

Mrs. Sinclair’s tears were tears of rebellion as well as of gratitude.  She was touched by Andrew’s delicacy, but her independent spirit was wounded at having to take help from anyone.  She thought of the children and of her husband, who needed nourishment, and taking up the little bag she poured its contents into her lap, while her hot tears fell upon the money.  Little Robert, who was sitting watching, and who had never in all his life seen so much money, ran to his mother with a cry of delight.

“Oh, mammy, will I get sweeties noo?” and the boy danced with glee, as he shouted, “I’ll get jeely-pieces noo, hurray!”

That night there was happiness in Geordie Sinclair’s house, for there was food in plenty, and it seemed as if the children would never be able to appease their hunger.

The “jeely-pieces,” or slices of bread with jam on them, disappeared with amazing rapidity, and Geordie had some beef-tea, which seemed to improve him almost as soon as he had taken it.  For the first time for many months Mrs. Sinclair and the children went to bed with satisfied appetites; and the children’s dreams were as the incidents in the life of a god, exalted and happy, and their mother’s rest was unbroken and full of comfort.