s very heart. He divined
at once whose work it was, and he felt that it was wonderful. It must
be acknowledged, too, that he was greatly pleased with Colin's
conception of himself.

"I'm no a bad-looking Crawford," he thought complacently; "the lad has
had a vera clear notion o' what he was doing."

Personal flattery is very subtle and agreeable. Colin rose in his
father's opinion that hour.

Then he turned to Prince Charlie. How strange is that vein of romantic
loyalty marbling the granite of Scotch character! The common-place man
of coal and iron became in the presence of his ideal prince a feudal
chieftain again. His heart swelled to that pictured face as the great
sea swells to the bending moon. He understood in that moment how his
fathers felt it easy to pin on the white cockade and give up
everything for an impossible loyalty.

The dominie found him in this mood. He turned back to every-day life
with a sigh.

"Weel, dominie, you are a man o' taste. When did you begin buying
pictures?"

"I hae no money for pictures, laird. The artist gave me them."

"You mean Colin Crawford gave you them."

"That is what I mean."

"Weel, I'm free to say Colin kens how to choose grand subjects. I
didna think there was so much in a picture. I wouldna dare to keep
that poor dear prince in my house. I shouldna be worth a bawbee at the
works. It was a wonderfu' wise step, that forbidding o' pictures in
the kirks. I can vera weel see how they would lead to a sinfu'
idolatry."

"Yes, John Knox kent well the temper o' the metal he had to work.
There's nae greater hero-worshippers than Scots folk. They are aye
making idols for themsel's. Whiles it's Wallace, then it's Bruce or
Prince Charlie; nay, there are decent, pious folk that gie Knox
himsel' a honoring he wouldna thank them for. But, laird, there is a
mair degraded idolatry still--that o' gold. We are just as ready as
ever the Jews were to fall down before a calf, an' it only be a golden
one."

"Let that subject alane, dominie. It will tak a jury o' rich men to
judge rich men. A poor man isna competent. The rich hae straits the
poor canna fathom."

And then he saw in light as clear as crystal a slip of paper hid away
in a secret drawer.

Just at this moment a little lad bairn entered the room; a child with
bright, daring eyes, and a comically haughty, confident manner. He
attracted Crawford's attention at once.

"What's your name, my wee man?"

"Alexander is my