Before thy reached the door they heard Sallie push a chair aside hastily, and come to meet them.  She had been crying, too, and her very first words were, “Oh, father!’ I am so glad!—­so glad!”

She did not say what for, but Davie took her words very gratefully, and he made no remark, though he knew she went into debt at the grocery for the little extras with which she celebrated his return at supper.  He understood, however, that the danger was passed, and he went to sleep that night thanking God for the love that had stood so hard a trial and come out conqueror.

The next day life took up its dreary tasks again, but in Davie’s heart there was a strange presentiment of change, and it almost angered the poor, troubled, taxed wife to see him so thoughtlessly playing with the children.  But the memory of the wrong she had nursed against him still softened and humbled her, and when he came home after carrying round his papers, she made room for him at the stove, and brought him a cup of coffee and a bit of bread and bacon.

Davie’s eyes filled, and Sallie went away to avoid seeing them.  So then he took out a paper that he had left and began to read it as he ate and drank.

In a few minutes a sudden sharp cry escaped him.  He put the paper in his pocket, and, hastily resuming his old army cloak and Scotch bonnet, went out without a word to anyone.

The truth was that he had read a personal notice which greatly disturbed him.  It was to the effect that, “If David Morrison, who left Aberdeen in 18—­, was still alive, and would apply to Messrs. Morgan & Black, Wall street, he would hear of something to his advantage.”

His long-lost brother was the one thought in his heart.  He was going now to hear something about Sandy.

“He said ‘sure as death,’ and he would mind that promise at the last hour, if he forgot it before; so, if he could not come, he’d doubtless send, and this will be his message.  Poor Sandy! there was never a lad like him!”

When he reached Messrs. Morgan & Black’s, he was allowed to stand unnoticed by the stove a few minutes, and during them his spirits sank to their usual placid level.  At length some one said: 

“Well, old man, what do you want?”

“I am David Morrison, and I just came to see what you wanted.”

“Oh, you are David Morrison!  Good!  Go forward—­I think you will find out, then, what we want.”

He was not frightened, but the man’s manner displeased him, and, without answering, he walked toward the door indicated, and quietly opened it.

An old gentleman was standing with his back to the door, looking into the fire, and one rather younger, was writing steadily away at a desk.  The former never moved; the latter simply raised his head with an annoyed look, and motioned to Davie to close the door.

“I am David Morrison, sir.”

“Oh, Davie!  Davie!  And the old blue bonnet, too!  Oh, Davie!  Davie, lad!”