A Doctor of the Old School | Page 6

na, na, gie yir siller tae some puir body, Maister Hopps,' an' he
was doon the road as hard as he cud lick."
His fees were pretty much what the folk chose to give him, and he
collected them once a year at Kildrummie fair.
"Well, doctor, what am a' awin' ye for the wife and bairn? Ye 'ill need
three notes for that nicht ye stayed in the hoose an' a' the veesits."
"Havers," MacLure would answer, "prices are low, a'm hearing; gie's
thirty shillings."
"No, a'll no, or the wife 'ill tak ma ears off," and it was settled for two
pounds. Lord Kilspindie gave him a free house and fields, and one way
or other, Drumsheugh told me, the doctor might get in about L150. a
year, out of which he had to pay his old housekeeper's wages and a
boy's, and keep two horses, besides the cost of instruments and books,
which he bought through a friend in Edinburgh with much judgment.
There was only one man who ever complained of the doctor's charges,
and that was the new farmer of Milton, who was so good that he was
above both churches, and held a meeting in his barn. (It was Milton the
Glen supposed at first to be a Mormon, but I can't go into that now.) He
offered MacLure a pound less than he asked, and two tracts, whereupon
MacLure expressed his opinion of Milton, both from a theological and
social standpoint, with such vigor and frankness that an attentive
audience of Drumtochty men could hardly contain themselves. Jamie

Soutar was selling his pig at the time, and missed the meeting, but he
hastened to condole with Milton, who was complaining everywhere of
the doctor's language.
[Illustration]
"Ye did richt tae resist him; it 'ill maybe roose the Glen tae mak a stand;
he fair hands them in bondage.
"Thirty shillings for twal veesits, and him no mair than seeven mile
awa, an' a'm telt there werena mair than four at nicht.
"Ye 'ill hae the sympathy o' the Glen, for a' body kens yir as free wi' yir
siller as yir tracts.
"Wes't 'Beware o' gude warks' ye offered him? Man, ye choose it weel,
for he's been colleckin' sae mony thae forty years, a'm feared for him.
"A've often thocht oor doctor's little better than the Gude Samaritan, an'
the Pharisees didna think muckle o' his chance aither in this warld or
that which is tae come."

THROUGH THE FLOOD.
II
THROUGH THE FLOOD
Doctor MacLure did not lead a solemn procession from the sick bed to
the dining-room, and give his opinion from the hearthrug with an air of
wisdom bordering on the supernatural, because neither the Drumtochty
houses nor his manners were on that large scale. He was accustomed to
deliver himself in the yard, and to conclude his directions with one foot
in the stirrup; but when he left the room where the life of Annie
Mitchell was ebbing slowly away, our doctor said not one word, and at
the sight of his face her husband's heart was troubled.

He was a dull man, Tammas, who could not read the meaning of a sign,
and labored under a perpetual disability of speech; but love was eyes to
him that day, and a mouth.
"Is't as bad as yir lookin', doctor? tell's the truth; wull Annie no come
through?" and Tammas looked MacLure straight in the face, who never
flinched his duty or said smooth things.
"A' wud gie onything tae say Annie hes a chance, but a' daurna; a' doot
yir gaein' tae lose her, Tammas."
MacLure was in the saddle, and as he gave his judgment, he laid his
hand on Tammas's shoulder with one of the rare caresses that pass
between men.
[Illustration: A' DOOT YIR GAEIN' TAE LOSE HER, TAMMAS."]
"It's a sair business, but ye 'ill play the man and no vex Annie; she 'ill
dae her best, a'll warrant."
"An' a'll dae mine," and Tammas gave MacLure's hand a grip that
would have crushed the bones of a weakling. Drumtochty felt in such
moments the brotherliness of this rough-looking man, and loved him.
Tammas hid his face in Jess's mane, who looked round with sorrow in
her beautiful eyes, for she had seen many tragedies, and in this silent
sympathy the stricken man drank his cup, drop by drop.
"A' wesna prepared for this, for a' aye thocht she wud live the langest....
She's younger than me by ten years, and never wes ill.... We've been
mairit twal year laist Martinmas, but it's juist like a year the day... A'
wes never worthy o' her, the bonniest, snoddest (neatest), kindliest lass
in the Glen.... A' never cud mak oot hoo she ever lookit at me,