'But Dr. Wagstaff says it's healthier,' interposed Peddie.

'I'll wag a staff till him. De'il a bit o' 't 's healthier! an' that
he kens. It's nae sae healthy, an' sae it mak's him mair wark wi' 's
poothers an' his drauchts, an' ither stinkin' stuff. Healthier! What
neist?'

'Somebody tellt me,' said the bookseller, inwardly conscious of offence,
''at hoo Lord Sandy himsel' weirs cotton.'

'Ow 'deed, maybe. And he sets mony a worthy example furbye. Hoo mony,
can ye tell me, Mr. Peddie, has he pulled doon frae honest, if no frae
high estate, and sent oot to seek their livin' as he taucht them? Hoo
mony--?'

'Hoot, hoot! Mr. MacGregor, his lordship hasn't a cotton shirt in his
possession, I'll be bound,' said Mr. Cocker. 'And, besides, you have not
to wash his dirty linen--or cotton either.'

'That's as muckle as to say, accordin' to Cocker, that I'm no to speik
a word against him. But I'll say what I like. He's no my maister,' said
MacGregor, who could drink very little without suffering in his temper
and manners; and who, besides, had a certain shrewd suspicion as to the
person who still sat in the dark end of the room, possibly because the
entrance of Mr. Lammie had interrupted the exorcism.

The chairman interposed with soothing words; and the whole company,
Cocker included, did its best to pacify the manufacturer; for they all
knew what would be the penalty if they failed.

A good deal of talk followed, and a good deal of whisky was drunk. They
were waited upon by Meg, who, without their being aware of it, cast a
keen parting glance at them every time she left the room. At length the
conversation had turned again to Andrew Falconer's death.

'Whaur said ye he dee'd, Mr. Lammie?'

'I never said he was deid. I said I was feared 'at he was deid.'

'An' what gars ye say that? It micht be o' consequence to hae 't
correck,' said the solicitor.

'I had a letter frae my auld frien' and his, Dr. Anderson. Ye min' upo'
him, Mr. Innes, dunna ye? He's heid o' the medical boord at Calcutta
noo. He says naething but that he doobts he's gane. He gaed up the
country, and he hasna hard o' him for sae lang. We hae keepit up a
correspondence for mony a year noo, Dr. Anderson an' me. He was a
relation o' Anerew's, ye ken--a second cousin, or something. He'll be
hame or lang, I'm thinkin', wi' a fine pension.'

'He winna weir a cotton sark, I'll be boon',' said MacGregor.

'What's the auld leddy gaein' to du wi' that lang-