Some days after that conversation, Mrs. Macintyre was labouring over her washing-tub in her very limited domain in the back court off Colquhoun Street, when a quick, light knock came to her door.

‘Come in,’ she said, not thinking it worth while to look round, or to lift her hands from the suds.

‘Good-morning, Mrs. Macintyre.  How are you to-day?’ she heard a sweet voice say, and in a moment she became interested and excited.

‘Mercy me, miss, is’t you? an’ me in a perfick potch,’ she said apologetically.  ‘No’ a corner for ye to step dry on, nor a seat to sit doon on.  Could ye no’ jist tak’ a walk the length o’ the auld place or I redd up a wee?’

‘No, no, Mrs. Macintyre,’ replied Gladys, with a laugh.  ’Never mind, I’ll get a seat somewhere.  I have come to see you very particularly, and I’m not going to take any walks till our business is settled.  And are you quite well?’

‘’Deed, I’m jist middlin’,’ said the good woman, and then, with one extraordinary sweep of her bare arm, she gathered all the soiled linen off the floor and pushed it under the bed, then vigorously rubbing up a chair, she spread a clean apron on it, and having persuaded Gladys to sit down, stood straight in front of her, looking at her with a species of adoring admiration.

‘Ye micht hae let a body ken ye were comin’.  Sic a potch,’ she said ruefully.  ‘My, but ye are a picter, an nae mistak’.’

Gladys laughed, and the sound rang through the place like sweetest music.

‘Have you not been quite well?  I think you are thinner,’ she said kindly.

‘No, I’ve no’ been up to muckle; fair helpless some days wi’ rheumatics.  The washin’s no’ extra guid for them, but a body maun dae something for meat.  I’ve anither mooth to fill noo.  My guid-brither, Bob Johnson, is deid since I saw ye, an’ I’ve been obleeged to tak’ Tammy—­no’ an ill loon.  He’s at the schule, or ye wad hae seen him.’

’I don’t suppose you would be sorry to leave this place and give up the washing if you could get something easier?’ said Gladys.

‘No’ me; a’ places are the same to me.  Hae ye been up by?’ asked Mrs. Macintyre significantly.

Gladys shook her head.

’I came to see whether you would come and live in the lodge at my gate.  It is a nice little house, and I would like to have you near me; you were such a kind friend in the old days.’

Mrs. Macintyre drew her rough hand across her eyes, and turned somewhat sharply back to her wash-tub, and for the moment she gave no answer, good or bad.

‘What aboot Tammy?’ she asked at length.

’Oh, he could come with you, of course.  He could go to school in Mauchline just as well as in Glasgow.  Just say you’ll come.  I’ve set my heart on it, and nobody refuses me anything just now.’