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 ham and eggs in to Derek and ate his own meal from his knee as he dried his feet in the oven.

Buckskin made friends with him at once and toddled back and forth between dining room and kitchen, carrying Pegleg to be kissed by Newbigging and Derek alternately.

"Ah, he's a bonnie wee boy," said the Scot admiringly. "He'll mak' a son to be proud of. But keep him away from the sea, Mr. Vale. It mak's a bad son, and a bad husband, too."

"I've been awfully worried about him," said Vale, seriously. "He's had a convulsion—a terrible one."

"Did ye see a doctor?"

"Yes. I asked Mrs. Machin about it first. She didn't think it serious. Then I saw Dr. Bosomworth. I thought perhaps I was feeding him wrong. But the doctor said his diet was very good. Said it might be hereditary."

"Never worry, sir. I had three fits in one afternoon when I was six years old and I've not had the sign of one since."

"Were there no bad effects?"

"Weel, whin I come out o' the third one I says, 'I'll gang tae sea,' and that was the beginning o't."

"Come along in," said Derek, "and I'll get a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard. 1 haven't had anyone to talk and drink with in the evening for a long time."

Newbigging sat down by the table with some diffidence, but his blue eyes glistened when Derek set the bottle before him and told him to pour what he wanted. He half-filled his glass, added some soda water, and then raised it in the direction of the sofa where Buckskin slept.

"The bairn," he said. "Long life to him."

"Buckskin," said Derek, and they drank.

"I wager," said Newbigging, after he had wiped his lips