Andrew MacDhui missed the funeral procession of his late victim that afternoon, for he was engaged in proceeding through another part of the town in the company of his friend, Mr. Angus Peddie, to bear good news to blind man Tammas Moffat, that, in a sense, he would “see” again.
Mr. Peddie dropped in upon the animal doctor shortly after three o’clock to learn what had happened to the Seeing Eye dog he had been instrumental in securing for Tammas, who was one of his oldest parishioners. He was a wonder, was Mr. Peddie, and known all over the town for being able to smooth-tongue a person out of a contribution when there was a need. His way was to appear to be letting you in on something, like a hot tip on a horse, or a winning pools combination; he made you a cheerful and excited co-conspirator and before you knew it, you had parted with a pound note, or ten shillings, or whatever you happened to have on you at the moment. And blessed if later on, when the results showed, you didn’t feel as though you had won something.
The minister found Mr. MacDhui looking tired but satisfied when he entered his consulting room. Peddie said, “I stopped by, Andrew, to ask whether there was any news of Tammas’s dog—good or ill—”
MacDhui savored for a moment the pleasure of the reply he had to make, before indulging in it, but the smile of gratification would not stay from his full lips; his strong teeth showed through the red bristles of beard and mustache as he replied, “Well, I have saved Tammas’s eyes for him. The dog will manage. In three weeks it will be good as new.”
Mr. Peddie said, “Ah. Oh, splendid, splendid. I knew it would be so. I was expecting it.”
MacDhui cocked his head at his friend. “Your faith, Angus, flatters me, but I might tell you—”
“Oh,” Mr. Peddie said innocently, “I wasn’t referring to you in this instance, I meant—”
MacDhui barked a savage laugh. “Hah! Your Higher Power, of course. Well, my friend, if you knew how many times the slender thread of your faith came near to being snipped. It’s almost a miracle the beast is alive—” He checked himself as he realized what he had said.
Peddie nodded cheerfully and said, “Well, yes, that’s what I asked for. In matters of faith, narrow escapes don’t count. It’s the results really that matter, isn’t it? As for what you would do, I had not the slightest doubt. Shall we go and tell the good news to Tammas? He was in a great torment of worry when I left him. It is a terrible thing to be blind and alone. The dog was his comfort as well as his guide.”
“Eh?” MacDhui asked. “What do you want me along for? You can tell him—”
“Well, actually, it was you who said it. But then you wouldn’t be the first to confuse the Power and the instrument. Come along, Andrew, it will do you good to see the old man’s joy.”
MacDhui grumbled in his throat, but he put on his old tweed jacket with the leather patches at the elbow’s and pockets, loaded a great black pipe, took up his twisted blackthorn, and said to Peddie, “Want to have a look at him first?”
He took the minister to the hospital part of the house. The dog lay on clean straw, his hindquarters encased in bandages and plaster. But his fine eyes were alert and keen, the pointed ears picked up, and he beat a rat-tat-tat on the floor of his cage with his brush at their coming, whined and scratched at the door with his forepaws.
“What a beautiful sight,” Mr. Peddie said, and feasted his eyes on it.
“Don’t pamper or spoil him,” MacDhui said to Willie Bannock, who was hovering nearby. “He’s been trained for but one man.”
Tammas Moffat lived on the other side of town, the poorer section, and as the two men walked thither chatting, the faint wind-borne skirl of pipes in lament reached the ears of Mr. Peddie for a moment and he paused, cocking an ear. “That’s strange,” he said, “I thought I heard the sound of Macintosh’s Lament.
Mr. Peddie dropped in upon the animal doctor shortly after three o’clock to learn what had happened to the Seeing Eye dog he had been instrumental in securing for Tammas, who was one of his oldest parishioners. He was a wonder, was Mr. Peddie, and known all over the town for being able to smooth-tongue a person out of a contribution when there was a need. His way was to appear to be letting you in on something, like a hot tip on a horse, or a winning pools combination; he made you a cheerful and excited co-conspirator and before you knew it, you had parted with a pound note, or ten shillings, or whatever you happened to have on you at the moment. And blessed if later on, when the results showed, you didn’t feel as though you had won something.
The minister found Mr. MacDhui looking tired but satisfied when he entered his consulting room. Peddie said, “I stopped by, Andrew, to ask whether there was any news of Tammas’s dog—good or ill—”
MacDhui savored for a moment the pleasure of the reply he had to make, before indulging in it, but the smile of gratification would not stay from his full lips; his strong teeth showed through the red bristles of beard and mustache as he replied, “Well, I have saved Tammas’s eyes for him. The dog will manage. In three weeks it will be good as new.”
Mr. Peddie said, “Ah. Oh, splendid, splendid. I knew it would be so. I was expecting it.”
MacDhui cocked his head at his friend. “Your faith, Angus, flatters me, but I might tell you—”
“Oh,” Mr. Peddie said innocently, “I wasn’t referring to you in this instance, I meant—”
MacDhui barked a savage laugh. “Hah! Your Higher Power, of course. Well, my friend, if you knew how many times the slender thread of your faith came near to being snipped. It’s almost a miracle the beast is alive—” He checked himself as he realized what he had said.
Peddie nodded cheerfully and said, “Well, yes, that’s what I asked for. In matters of faith, narrow escapes don’t count. It’s the results really that matter, isn’t it? As for what you would do, I had not the slightest doubt. Shall we go and tell the good news to Tammas? He was in a great torment of worry when I left him. It is a terrible thing to be blind and alone. The dog was his comfort as well as his guide.”
“Eh?” MacDhui asked. “What do you want me along for? You can tell him—”
“Well, actually, it was you who said it. But then you wouldn’t be the first to confuse the Power and the instrument. Come along, Andrew, it will do you good to see the old man’s joy.”
MacDhui grumbled in his throat, but he put on his old tweed jacket with the leather patches at the elbow’s and pockets, loaded a great black pipe, took up his twisted blackthorn, and said to Peddie, “Want to have a look at him first?”
He took the minister to the hospital part of the house. The dog lay on clean straw, his hindquarters encased in bandages and plaster. But his fine eyes were alert and keen, the pointed ears picked up, and he beat a rat-tat-tat on the floor of his cage with his brush at their coming, whined and scratched at the door with his forepaws.
“What a beautiful sight,” Mr. Peddie said, and feasted his eyes on it.
“Don’t pamper or spoil him,” MacDhui said to Willie Bannock, who was hovering nearby. “He’s been trained for but one man.”
Tammas Moffat lived on the other side of town, the poorer section, and as the two men walked thither chatting, the faint wind-borne skirl of pipes in lament reached the ears of Mr. Peddie for a moment and he paused, cocking an ear. “That’s strange,” he said, “I thought I heard the sound of Macintosh’s Lament.
Similar Books
