Material, ma'am, is
what we want. I don't care for its being raw material, if it's
only of the right sort. I've made up my mind to try your boy."
"Thank God!"
"What did you say, ma'am? But--I beg your pardon."
For he saw that Mrs. Boyd had quite broken down. In truth, the
strain had been so long and so great that this sudden relief was
quite too much for her. She sobbed heartily.
"I ought to beg your pardon," she said at last, "for being so
foolish, but we have had hard times of late."
And then, in a few simple words, she told Donald's whole story.
The old man listened to it in silence. Sometimes he nodded his
head, or beat his chin on his stout stick as he sat; but he made
no comment whatever, except a brief "Thank you, ma'am."
"Now to business," continued he, taking out his watch; "for I'm
due at dinner: and I always keep my appointments, even with
myself. I hope your Donald is a punctual lad?"
"Yes. He promised to be back by dark, and I am sure he will be.
Could you not wait?"
"No. I never wait for anybody; but keep nobody waiting for me.
I'm Bethune & Co., Leith Merchants--practically, old John
Bethune, who began life as a message-boy, and has done pretty
well, considering."
He had, as Mrs. Boyd was well aware. Bethune & Co. was a name so
well known that she could hardly believe in her boy's good luck
in getting into that house in any capacity whatever.
"So all is settled," said Mr. Bethune, rising. "Let him come to
me on Monday morning, and I'll see what he is fit for.
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