but failing from
sheer exhaustion, and the beginnings of an asthmatic attack.

The farmer, hearing their voices, came into the kitchen--a
middle-sized and middle-aged, rather coarse-looking man, with keen
eyes, who took snuff amazingly. His manner was free, with a touch
of satire. He was proud of driving a hard bargain, but was
thoroughly hospitable. He had little respect for person or thing,
but showed an occasional touch of tenderness.

"Hoot, Rob!" he said roughly as he entered, "I thoucht ye had mair
sense! What's broucht ye here at sic a time?"

But as he spoke he held out his snuff-box to the old man.

"Fell needcessity, sir," answered Robert, taking a good pinch.

"Necessity!" retorted the farmer. "Was ye oot o' meal?"

"Oot o' dry meal, I doobt, by this time, sir," replied Robert.

"Hoots! I wuss we war a' in like necessity--weel up upo' the hill
i'stead o' doon here upo' the haugh (river-meadow). It's jist clean
ridic'lous. Ye sud hae kenned better at your age, Rob. Ye sud hae
thoucht twise, man."

"'Deed, sir," answered Robert, quietly finishing his pinch of snuff,
"there was sma' need, an' less time to think, an' Glashgar bursten,
an' the watter comin' ower the tap o' the bit hoosie as gien 'twar a
muckle owershot wheel, an' no a place for fowk to bide in. Ye dinna
think Janet an' me wad be twa sic auld fules as pit on oor Sunday
claes to sweem in, gien we thoucht to see things as we left them
whan we gaed back! Ye see, sir, though the hoose be fun't upo' a
rock, it's maist biggit o' fells, an' the foundation's a' I luik
even to see o' 't again. Whan the force o' the watter grows less,
it'll come down upo' the riggin' wi' the haill weicht o' 't."

"Ay!" said Janet, in a low voice, "the live stanes maun come to the
live rock to bigg the hoose 'at'll stan."

"What think ye, Maister Fergus, you 'at's gauin' to be a minister?"
said Robert, referring to his wife's words, as the young man looked
in at the door of the kitchen.

"Lat him be," interposed his father, blowing his nose with
unnecessary violence; "setna him preachin' afore's time. Fess the
whusky, Fergus, an' gie auld Robert a dram. Haith! gien the watter
be rinnin' ower the tap o' yer hoose, man, it was time to flit.
Fess twa or three glaisses, Fergus; we hae a' need o' something
'at's no watter. It's perfeckly ridic'lous!"

Having taken a little of the whisky, the old people went to change
their clothes for some Jean ha