"You made me think of my own home in the old days,--I mean before the war came and smashed everything." The old lady's eyes were kindly scanning his face.
"Ay, the war smashed yere hame ?" Maitland nodded in silence.
"His brither," said Malcolm, quietly.
"Puir laddie," she said, patting his hand.
"And my mother," added Maitland, speaking with difficulty, "and that, of course, meant our home--and everything.

So I thank you for a very happy hour," he added with a smile.
"Wad ye care to come again ?" said the old lady with a quiet dignity.
"We're plain fowk but ye'll be always welcome." "I just will, Mrs.McNish.And I will send you the tickets." "Man! I wish ye grand luck the night.

A grand victory." "Thank you.

We are going to make a try for it," said Maitland.

"You must shout for us." "Ay, wull I," she answered grimly.