with the back of his hand, "that ye'd never guess who I met out West in the Saskatchewan."
"Not Phœbe and Hugh?"
"The very pair. The train I was on was crawlin' over the dismal, flat prairie, and every time we stopped at a station, I mairvelled tae see the pale, weary-lookin' folk on the platform. Grey, and dour, and old before their time, wi' never a rosy cheek or full red lips among them. Presently, at one of the stops, the door of the coach was flung open and a young woman followed by a man came in. Her airms were full of paircels, and when she boarded the train she tripped on the step and plunged intil the coach, head down, her bundles flyin' in all directions. I jumped up to help her, and she gied me a shamefaced look I saw that it was Phœbe, rosy as ever, wi' her neck like a bowl o' new milk. . . . Man, they were glad tae see me. And they asked kindly after you, Mr. Vale."
"Had they a good situation?"
"Fine. Keepin' hoose for a wealthy rancher. They were shoppin' for him that day. They wanted me tae come back wi' them, and get a job but I slapped ma bonnet on ma heid and said, 'Nae prairie for me, I'm gaein' back tae old Grimstone."
"I'm glad you came," said Derek. "Help yourself."
"D'ye mind, Mr. Vale," said the Scot, when he had drunk another glass, "how Hughie used tae say in lambing time—'we'll be haein' a new wee lamb afore the morn'?"
"I'll never forget that."
Newbigging chuckled. "I think he'd been safe in repeatin' that saying, tae judge by the appearance of Phœbe."
"Tck," muttered Derek. "What would the rancher say to that?"
"Weel," replied Newbigging, "they didna seem to be worryin'."
