ox, considered the chasing upon the
gold lid. "Those were sore happenings, Glenfernie, but they're past! I
make no wonder that, being you, you feel as you do. But the world's in
a mood, if I may say it, not to take so hardly religious differences.
I trust that I am as religious as another--but my family was always
moderate there. In matters political the world's as hot as ever--but
there, too, it is my instinct to ca' canny. But if you talk of
trade"--he tapped his snuff-box--"I will match you, Glenfernie! If
there's wrong, pay it back! Hold to your principles! But do it
cannily. Smile when there's smart, and get your own again by being
supple. In the end you'll demand--and get--a higher interest. Prosper
at your enemy's cost, and take repayment for your hurt sugared and
spiced!"

"I'll not do it so!" said Glenfernie. "But I would take my stand at
the crag's edge and cry to Grierson of Lagg, 'You or I go down!'"

Mr. Touris brushed the snuff from his ruffles. "It's a great century!
We're growing enlightened."

With a movement of her fingers Mrs. Jardine helped to roll from her
lap a ball of rosy wool. "Mr. Jardine, will you give me that? Had you
heard that Abercrombie's cows were lifted?"

"Aye, I heard. What is it, Holdfast?"

Both dogs had raised their heads.

"Bran is outside," said Strickland.

As he spoke the door opened and there came in a youth of seventeen,
tall and well-built, with clothing that testified to an encounter
alike with brier and bog. The hound Bran followed him. He blinked at
the lights and the fire, then with a gesture of deprecation crossed
the hall to the stairway. His mother spoke after him.

"Davie will set you something to eat."

He answered, "I do not want anything," then, five steps up, paused and
turned his head. "I stopped at White Farm, and they gave me supper."
He was gone, running up the stairs, and Bran with him.

The laird of Glenfernie shaded his eyes and looked at the fire. Mrs.
Jardine, working upon the gold streak in a tulip, held her needle
suspended and sat for a moment with unseeing gaze, then resumed the
bright wreath. The tutor began to think again of Mother Binning, and,
following this, of the stepping-stones at White Farm, and Elspeth and
Gilian Barrow balanced above the stream of gold. Mr. Touris put up his
snuff-box.

"That's a fine youth! I should say that he took after you, Glenfernie.
But it's hard to tell whom the young take after!"

CHAPTER III