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“
Were
you
fixing
this
warm
food
for
me
chickens
or
yours
?
”
he
asked
.
“
It
’
s
for
yours
,
Freckles
,
”
she
said
.
“
I
was
afeared
this
cold
weather
they
wadna
lay
good
without
a
warm
bite
now
and
then
.
”
Duncan
laughed
as
he
stepped
to
the
other
room
for
his
pipe
;
but
Freckles
faced
Mrs
.
Duncan
with
a
trace
of
every
pang
of
starved
mother
-
hunger
he
ever
had
suffered
written
large
on
his
homely
,
splotched
,
narrow
features
.
“
Oh
,
how
I
wish
you
were
my
mother
!
”
he
cried
.
Mrs
.
Duncan
attempted
an
echo
of
her
husband
’
s
laugh
.
“
Lord
love
the
lad
!
”
she
exclaimed
.
“
Why
,
Freckles
,
are
ye
no
bright
enough
to
learn
without
being
taught
by
a
woman
that
I
am
your
mither
?
If
a
great
man
like
yoursel
’
dinna
ken
that
,
learn
it
now
and
ne
’
er
forget
it
.
Ance
a
woman
is
the
wife
of
any
man
,
she
becomes
wife
to
all
men
for
having
had
the
wifely
experience
she
kens
!
Ance
a
man
-
child
has
beaten
his
way
to
life
under
the
heart
of
a
woman
,
she
is
mither
to
all
men
,
for
the
hearts
of
mithers
are
everywhere
the
same
.
Bless
ye
,
laddie
,
I
am
your
mither
!
”
She
tucked
the
coarse
scarf
she
had
knit
for
him
closer
over
his
chest
and
pulled
his
cap
lower
over
his
ears
,
but
Freckles
,
whipping
it
off
and
holding
it
under
his
arm
,
caught
her
rough
,
reddened
hand
and
pressed
it
to
his
lips
in
a
long
kiss
.
Then
he
hurried
away
to
hide
the
happy
,
embarrassing
tears
that
were
coming
straight
from
his
swelling
heart
.
Mrs
.
Duncan
,
sobbing
unrestrainedly
,
swept
into
the
adjoining
room
and
threw
herself
into
Duncan
’
s
arms
.
“
Oh
,
the
puir
lad
!
”
she
wailed
.
“
Oh
,
the
puir
mither
-
hungry
lad
!
He
breaks
my
heart
!
”
