d
round the terrace, and in by the front door into the Seminary. As they
came down they sang, "Scots wha hae," and the juniors, who had rushed on
before, met them at the door and gave three cheers, first for Speug,
then for Dunc, and then for Jock Howieson, which homage and tribute of
victory Speug received with affected contempt but great pride of heart.
In order to conceal his feelings he turned to his faithful henchman,
little Nestie Molyneux, who, always a delicate-looking little laddie,
was now an altogether abject spectacle, with torn clothes, dripping
hair, and battered face. "Nestie," said Speug, in hearing of the whole
school, "ye're a plucky little deevil," and although since then he has
been in many places and has had various modest triumphs, that still
remains the proudest moment in Nestie Molyneux's life.

HIS PRIVATE CAPACITY

V

It is well enough for popular rulers like presidents to live in public
and shake hands with every person; but absolute monarchs, who govern
with an iron hand and pay not the slightest attention to the public
mind, ought to be veiled in mystery. If Bulldog had walked homeward with
his boys in an affectionate manner, and inquired after their sisters,
like his temporary assistant, Mr. Byles, or had played with interesting
babies on the North Meadow, as did Topp, the drawing-master--Augustus de
Lacy Topp--who wore a brown velvet jacket and represented sentiment in a
form verging on lunacy; or if he had invited his classes to drink coffee
in a very shabby little home, as poor Moossy did, and treated them to
Beethoven's Symphonies, then even Jock Howieson, the stupidest lad in
the Seminary, would have been shocked, and would have felt that the
Creation was out of gear. The last thing we had expected of Bulldog was
polite conversation, or private hospitality. His speech was confined to
the class-room, and there was most practical; and his hospitality,
which was generous and widespread, was invariably public. His _role_ was
to be austere, unapproachable, and lifted above feeling, and had it not
been for Nestie he had sustained it to the day of his death.

Opinion varied about Bulldog's age, some insisting that he had
approached his century, others being content with "Weel on to eighty."
None hinted at less than seventy. No one could remember his coming to
Muirtown, and none knew whence he came. His birthplace was commonly
believed to be the West Highlands, and it was certain t