more to tell his mother about the weaving town they were going to,
or about the manse or the furniture that had been transferred to
him by the retiring minister. The little room which had become so
familiar that it seemed one of a family party of three had to be
stripped, and many of its contents were sold. Among what were
brought to Thrums was a little exercise book, in which Margaret
had tried, unknown to Gavin, to teach herself writing and grammar,
that she might be less unfit for a manse. He found it accidentally
one day. It was full of "I am, thou art, he is," and the like,
written many times in a shaking hand. Gavin put his arms round his
mother when he saw what she had been doing. The exercise book is
in my desk now, and will be my little maid's when I die.

"Gavin, Gavin," Margaret said many times In those last days at
Glasgow, "to think it has all come true!"

"Let the last word you say in the house be a prayer of
thankfulness," she whispered to him when they were taking a final
glance at the old home.

In the bare room they called the house, the little minister and
his mother went on their knees, but, as it chanced, their last
word there was not addressed to God.

"Gavin," Margaret whispered as he took her arm, "do you think this
bonnet sets me?"