FORGIVE US OUR DEBTS
"Aye, yes," said Macdonald. "The breast is bad whatever.
"I think you had better send for Doctor Grant," Mrs. Murray said. "There may be some internal injury."
"No, no," said Macdonald, decidedly. "I will have no doctor at me, and I will soon be round again, if the Lord will. When will the minister be home?"
But Mrs. Murray, ignoring his attempt to escape the subject, went on: "Yes, but, Mr. Macdonald, I am anxious to have Doctor Grant see you, and I wish you would send for him to-morrow."
"Ah, well," said Macdonald, not committing himself, "we will be seeing about that. But the doctor has not been in this house for many a day." Then, after a pause, he added, in a low voice, "Not since the day she was taken from me."
"Was she ill long?"
"Indeed, no. It was just one night. There was no doctor, and the women could not help her, and she was very bad—and when it came it was a girl—and it was dead—and then the doctor arrived, but he was too late." Macdonald Dubh finished with a great sigh, and the minister's wife said gently to him:
"That was a very sad day, and a great loss to you and Ranald."
"Aye, you may say it; she was a bonnie woman whatever, and grand at the spinning and the butter. And, oich-hone, it was a sad day for us."
The minister's wife sat silent, knowing that such grief cannot be comforted, and pitying from her heart
67
