dookie
(Baptist) minister."

"My father's one of the best men living"--Nestie was in an honourable
temper--"and you are an ill-bred c-cad."

Poor Nestie would have been half-killed before Cosh had done with him
had not Speug arrived on the scene, having been in the gundy (candy)
shop not far off, and then there were circumstances. Cosh had a poor
chance at any time with Peter, but now that worthy's arm was nerved with
fierce indignation, and Nestie had to beg for mercy for Cosh, whose
appearance on arriving home was remarkable. His story was even more so,
and was indeed so affecting, not to say picturesque, that Bailie Cosh
came into Bulldog's room with his son two days afterwards to settle
matters.

"A' called, Maister MacKinnon," he said, in tones charged with dignity,
"to explain the cause of my son Robert's absence; he was in bed with a
poultice on his face twenty-four hours, an' he'll no be himself for
days."

[Illustration: "'YOU ARE AN ILL-BRED C-CAD.'"]

"He is no in condeetion to lose time wi' his lessons, a' can tell ye,
Bailie; ye're richt to bring him back as sune as ye could; was't
toothache?"

"No, it wasna toothache, but the ill-usage o' one of your scholars, the
maist impudent, ill-doing, aggravating scoondrel in Muirtown."

"Peter McGuffie, come out here," which showed Bulldog's practical
acquaintance with affairs. "Did ye give Robert Cosh a licking?"

No answer from Speug, but a look of satisfaction that was beyond all
evidence.

"Was that just yir natural iniquity, Peter, or had ye a justification?"

Dogged silence of Speug, whose code of honour had one article at
least--never to tell on a fellow.

"Please, sir, may I speak?" cried Nestie, as he saw the preparations for
Peter's punishment and could not contain himself.

"Were you in this job, too, Nestie? You didn't tell me that there were
two at puir Robert, Bailie; if Nestie got his hand on your son, he's sic
a veeciously inclined character that it's a wonder Robert's leevin.'

"Now, Bailie, we'll conduct a judeecial investigation. Robert Cosh, what
have ye to say? Speak up like a man, an' I'll see justice done ye, be
sure o' that; but mind ye, the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but
the truth."

Robert Cosh declined to contribute even the smallest morsel of truth in
any shape or form, and, in spite of strong encouragement from the
magistrate, preserved an impenetrable silence.

"This," said Bulldog, with a shrewd glance, "is