And pushing the collie from him, he sat up in bed and looked anxiously
but vainly round the chamber for the Man of Peace.

"Lie doun, lie doun," cried the gudewife from beside him. "Ye're
surely out o' your wuts, Brockburn. Would ye gang stravaging about the
country again the nicht?"

"Where is he?" cried the Laird.

"There's not a soul here but your lawful wife and your ain dear
doggie. Was there ae body that ye expected?" asked his wife.

"The Man o' Peace, woman!" cried Brockburn. "I've ane o' my wushes to
get, and I maun hae't."

"The man's mad!" was the gudewife's comment. "Ye've surely forgotten
yoursel, Brockburn. Ye never believed in the _Daoiné Shi_ before."

"Seein's believin'," said the Laird. "I forgathered with a Man o'
Peace the nicht on the hill, and I wush I just saw him again."

As the Laird spoke the window of the chamber was lit up from without,
and the Man of Peace appeared sitting on the window-ledge in his
daisy-lined cloak, his feet hanging down into the room, the silver
shoes glittering as they dangled.

"I'm here, Brockburn!" he cried. "But eh, man! ye've had your last
wush."