it and scampered
busily about the room, leaving little trails of wet behind him.

This grill-room of Traill's place was more like the parlor of a country
inn, or a farm-house kitchen if there had been a built-in bed or two,
than a restaurant in the city. There, a humble man might see his herring
toasted, his bannocks baked on the oven-top, or his tea brewed to his
liking. On such a night as this the landlord would pull the settle out
of the inglenook to the set before the solitary guest a small table, and
keep the kettle on the hob.

"Spread yoursel' on both sides o' the fire, man. There'll be nane to
keep us company, I'm thinking. Ilka man that has a roof o' his ain will
be wearing it for a bonnet the nicht."

As there was no answer to this, the skilled conversational angler
dropped a bit of bait that the wariest man must rise to.

"That's a vera intelligent bit dog, Auld Jock. He was here with the
time-gun spiering for you. When he didna find you he greeted like a
bairn."

Auld Jock, huddled in the corner of the settle, so near the fire that
his jacket smoked, took so long a time to find an answer that Mr. Traill
looked at him keenly as he set the wooden plate and pewter mug on the
table.

"Man, you're vera ill," he cried, sharply. In truth he was shocked and
self-accusing because he had not observed Auld Jock's condition before.

"I'm no' so awfu' ill," came back in irritated denial, as if he had been
accused of some misbehavior.

"Weel, it's no' a dry herrin' ye'll hae in my shop the nicht. It's a hot
mutton broo wi' porridge in it, an' bits o' meat to tak' the cauld oot
o' yer auld banes."

And there, the plate was whisked away, and the cover lifted from a
bubbling pot, and the kettle was over the fire for the brewing of tea.
At a peremptory order the soaked boots and stockings were off, and dry
socks found in the kerchief bundle. Auld Jock was used to taking orders
from his superiors, and offered no resistance to being hustled after
this manner into warmth and good cheer. Besides, who could have
withstood that flood of homely speech on which the good landlord came
right down to the old shepherd's humble level? Such warm feeling was
established that Mr. Traill quite forgot his usual caution and certain
well-known prejudices of old country bodies.

"Noo," he said cheerfully, as he set the hot broth on the table, "ye
maun juist hae a doctor."

A doctor is the last resort of the unlettered poor. The ver