--"

M'Nab regarded him with an earnest, narrow, wintry look. "I would not
wish to deserve that epithet, Mr. Strickland. But the world is evil,
and Satan stands close at the ear of the young, both the poor and them
of place and world's gear! So I doubt not that he eats the husks. I
doubt not, either, that the Lord has a rod for him, as for us all,
that will drive him, willy-nilly, home. So I'll say good day, sir.
To-morrow I'll go again to the laird, and so every day until his
summons comes."

They parted at the manse door. The world was gray, the snow swiftening
its approach. Strickland, passing the kirk, kept on down the one
village street. All and any who were out of doors spoke to him, asking
how did the laird. Some asked if "the young laird" had come.

In the shop where he made his purchase the woman who sold would have
kept him talking an hour: "Wad the laird last the week? Wad he make
friends before he died with Mr. Touris of Black Hill with whom he had
the great quarrel three years since? Eh, sirs! and he never set foot
again in Touris House, nor Mr. Touris in his!--Wad Mr. Jamie gae now
to Edinburgh or on his travels, that had been at home sae lang
because the laird wadna part with him?--Wad Miss Alice, that was as
bonny as a rose and mair friendly than the gowans on a June lea, just
bide on at the house with her aunt, Mrs. Grizel, that came when the
leddy died? Wad--"

Strickland smiled. "You must just come up to the house, Mrs. Macmurdo,
and have a talk with Mrs. Grizel.--I hope the laird may last the
week."

"You're a close ane!" thought the disappointed Mrs. Macmurdo. Aloud
she said, "Aweel, sir, Mr. Alexander that will be laird is coming hame
frae foreign parts?"

"Yes."

"Sic a wanderer as he has been! But there!" said Mrs. Macmurdo, "ony
that saw him when he was a laddie gaeing here and gaeing there by his
lane-some, glen and brae and muir, might ha' said, 'Ye're a
wanderer--and as sune as ye may ye'll wander farther!'"

"You're quite right, Mrs. Macmurdo," said Strickland, and took his
parcel from her.

"A wanderer and a seeker!" Mrs. Macmurdo was loth to let him go. "And
his great friend is still Captain Ian Rullock?"

"Yes, still."

Mrs. Macmurdo reluctantly opened the shop door. "Aweel, sir, if ye
maun gae.--There'll be snaw the night, I'm thinking! Do ye stop at the
inn? There's twa-three sogers in town."

Strickland had not meant to stop. But, coming to the Jardine Arms and
glanci