offence against the laws of the land, and I cannot look at
your face without having grave doubts. And to think that the sons of a
respected minister of the kirk should be found in such company, and with
all the appearance of vagrants, must be a great trial to their father,
and I am sure he has the sympathy of Muirtown. As for you, Cosh, I
never expected to see the son of a brother bailie in such a position.
All I can hope is that this will be a lesson to you to keep clear of
evil companions and evil ways, and that you may live to be a respectable
citizen. But do not presume on your escape to-day--that is all I have to
say."

Outside the court-room the head keeper caught Speug and gave him his
mind.

"Ye're a limb o' Satan, Peter McGuffie, and that English-speakin' imp is
little better. My belief is that this has been a pliskie (trick) o'
yours frae beginning to end, and I just give ye one word o'
advice--don't let me catch you in Kilspindie Woods, or it will be the
worse for you."

THE COUNT

VII

If you excluded two or three Englishmen who spoke with an accent
suggestive of an effeminate character, and had a fearsome habit of
walking on the Sabbath, and poor "Moossy," the French master at the
Seminary, who was a quantity not worth considering, the foreign element
in Muirtown during the classical days consisted of the Count. He never
claimed to be a Count, and used at first to deprecate the title, but he
declined the honour of our title with so much dignity that it seemed
only to prove his right, and by and by he answered to the name with
simply a slight wave of his hand which he meant for deprecation, but
which came to be considered a polite acknowledgement. His real name was
not known in Muirtown--not because he had not given it, but because it
could not be pronounced, being largely composed of x's and k's, with an
irritating parsimony of vowels. We had every opportunity of learning to
spell it, if we could not pronounce it, for it was one of the Count's
foreign ways to carry a card-case in his ticket-pocket, and on being
introduced to an inhabitant of Muirtown to offer his card with the right
hand while he took off his hat with the left, and bowed almost to a
right angle. Upon those occasions a solid man like Bailie MacFarlane
would take hold of the card cautiously, not knowing whether so unholy a
name might not go off and shatter his hand; and during the Count's
obeisance, which lasted for several se