s saying when I entered, "I'm no the kind that
speaks ill o' the deid, but I will say this, that Wull Murray had his
faults. Aye, and though he's a corp the day, I canna pertend that he
was ony freend o' mine."

When Mary had gone Dauvit turned to me with a queer smile.

"Dominie, you tell me that you have studied the science o' the mind,
psy--what is't you call it?"

"Psychology," I said.

"That's the word. Weel then, dominie, just tell me why Mary Rickart
had sic a pick at auld Willie Murray."

I smoked for a time thoughtfully.

"It's difficult, Dauvit. I haven't got enough evidence. However I
think I can make a good guess."

"Weel?"

"Mary and Willie sat in the same class at school?"

"Good!" said Dauvit, "they did."

"And Mary was Willie's first sweetheart?"

"Imphm!"

"Mary loved Willie and he loved her. They were sweethearts for a long
time, but another damsel came and stole Willie's heart away. Mary wept
bitter tears, but in time she repressed her love . . . and it changed
into hate."

Dauvit chuckled.

"A very nice story," he said, "but, ye ken, it's just a story. You
cudna guess the real reason why Mary hated him so much."

"Then what was the real reason, Dauvit?"

He laughed.

"Mary hated Willie Murray because he aince telt her that she was a
silly woman to think that she cud wear a number fower shoe on a number
acht foot."

We laughed together, and then I said:

"Dauvit, why did you never marry? You like women I fancy."

My remark made him thoughtful.

"Man," he said, "I've often speered the same question o' mysel. As a
young man I was gye fond o' the lassies, but . . . I dinna ken!" and
he broke off suddenly and took up a boot. "Thae soles are just paper
noo-a-days," he growled.

I refused to let him run away from the subject.

"Had you a sweetheart?" I asked.

He laughed boisterously to hide his confusion.

"Dozens o' them!" he cried.

"Then why didn't you marry one of them?"

He shook his head.

"Dominie, that's the question." He stared at the grate for a while.
"There was Maggie Adams, a bonny lassie she was. Man, I mind when I
took her to Kirriemair Market . . ." He sighed. "Aye, man, dominie, I
liked Maggie mair than ony o' the others."

"Did she love someone else?" I asked softly.

Dauvit took some time to reply.

"No, man, Maggie wanted me."

"Then the fault lay on your side? You didn't love her!"

Dauvit brought his hand down on the board