They did not speak for some time, but looked out of the window at the spring.
"Be like that, Tommie," said the judge.
Toward evening Judge Tyler became feverish, and went out of his head a little, and needed the doctor. That passed. The room became dark.
"Shall I light up, sir?"
"No, Tommie, don't. I can see you."
There was a weakening in the judge's voice. After a period, he raised suddenly on his elbow.
"Tommie," he said, "I want to hear 'Glenlogie' again."
"Whenever you like, sir," said Tommie.
"Whenever—I—like," said the judge to himself. "O Lord!"
Tommie thrust up his chin and sang:
"Three score o' nobles rade to the king's ha',
But bonnie Glenlogie's the flower o' them a';
Wi' his milk white steed and his bonnie black e'e
Glenlogie, dear mither, Glenlogie for me."
But bonnie Glenlogie's the flower o' them a';
Wi' his milk white steed and his bonnie black e'e
Glenlogie, dear mither, Glenlogie for me."
