Madge, Simon’s faithful companion, his “gude-wife,” to use the Scotch term, was a tall, strong, comely woman. Madge had no wish to leave the Dochart pit any more than had her husband. She shared all his hopes and regrets. She encouraged him, she urged him on, and talked to him in a way which cheered the heart of the old overman. “Aberfoyle is only asleep,” she would say. “You are right about that, Simon. This is but a rest, it is not death!”
Madge, as well as the others, was perfectly satisfied to live independent of the outer world, and was the center of the happiness enjoyed by the little family in their dark cottage.
The engineer was eagerly expected. Simon Ford was standing at his door, and as soon as Harry’s lamp announced the arrival of his former viewer he advanced to meet him.
“Welcome, Mr. Starr!” he exclaimed, his voice echoing under the roof of schist. “Welcome to the old overman’s cottage! Though it is buried fifteen hundred feet under the earth, our house is not the less hospitable.”
“And how are you, good Simon?” asked James Starr, grasping the hand which his host held out to him.
“Very well, Mr. Starr. How could I be otherwise here, sheltered from the inclemencies of the weather? Your ladies who go to Newhaven or Portobello in the summer time would do much better to pass a few months in the coal mine of Aberfoyle! They would run no risk here of catching a heavy cold, as they do in the damp streets of the old capital.”
“I’m not the man to contradict you, Simon,” answered James Starr, glad to find the old man just as he used to be. “Indeed, I wonder why I do not change my home in the Canongate for a cottage near you.”
“And why not, Mr. Starr? I know one of your old miners who would be truly pleased to have only a partition wall between you and him.”
“The goodwife is in better health than I am, if that’s possible,” replied Ford, “and it will be a pleasure to her to see you at her table. I think she will surpass herself to do you honor.”
“We shall see that, Simon, we shall see that!” said the engineer, to whom the announcement of a good breakfast could not be indifferent, after his long walk.
“Ravenously hungry. My journey has given me an appetite. I came through horrible weather.”