While Gavin and the earl were among the waters, two men were on their way to Mr. Carfrae’s home, to ask him to return with them and preach the Auld Licht kirk of Thrums vacant; and he came, though now so done that he had to be wheeled about in a little coach.  He came in sorrow, yet resolved to perform what was asked of him if it seemed God’s will; but, instead of banishing Gavin, all he had to do was to remarry him and kirk him, both of which things he did, sitting in his coach, as many can tell.  Lang Tammas spoke no more against Gavin, but he would not go to the marriage, and he insisted on resigning his eldership for a year and a day.  I think he only once again spoke to Margaret.  She was in the manse garden when he was passing, and she asked him if he would tell her now why he had been so agitated when he visited her on the day of the flood.  He answered gruffly, “It’s no business o’ yours.”  Dr. McQueen was Gavin’s best man.  He died long ago of scarlet fever.  So severe was the epidemic that for a week he was never in bed.  He attended fifty cases without suffering, but as soon as he had bent over Hendry Munn’s youngest boys, who both had it, he said, “I’m smitted,” and went home to die.  You may be sure that Gavin proved a good friend to Micah Dow.  I have the piece of slate on which Rob proved himself a good friend to Gavin; it was in his pocket when we found the body.  Lord Rintoul returned to his English estates, and never revisited the Spittal.  The last thing I heard of him was that he had been offered the Lord-Lieutenantship of a county, and had accepted it in a long letter, in which he began by pointing out his unworthiness.  This undid him, for the Queen, or her councillors, thinking from his first page that he had declined the honor, read no further, and appointed another man.  Waster Lunny is still alive, but has gone to another farm.  Sanders Webster, in his gratitude, wanted Nanny to become an Auld Licht, but she refused, saying, “Mr. Dishart is worth a dozen o’ Mr. Duthie, and I’m terrible fond o’ Mrs. Dishart, but Established I was born and Established I’ll remain till I’m carried out o’ this house feet foremost.”

“But Nanny went to Heaven for all that,” my little maid told me.  “Jean says people can go to Heaven though they are not Auld Lichts, but she says it takes them all their time.  Would you like me to tell you a story about my mother putting glass on the manse dike?  Well, my mother and my father is very fond of each other, and once they was in the garden, and my father kissed my mother, and there was a woman watching them over the dike, and she cried out—­something naughty.”

“It was Tibbie Birse,” I said, “and what she cried was, ’Mercy on us, that’s the third time in half an hour!’ So your mother, who heard her, was annoyed, and put glass on the wall.”

“But it’s me that is telling you the story.  You are sure you don’t know it?  Well, they asked father to take the glass away, and he wouldn’t; but he once preached at mother for having a white feather in her bonnet, and another time he preached at her for being too fond of him.  Jean told me.  That’s all.”