blow on the top of
Gibbie's head. Happily the latter was the harder of the two, and
the former broke, flying mostly out of the frame. It took Gibbie
terribly by surprise. Half-stunned, he started to his feet, and for
one moment the wild beast which was in him, as it is in everybody,
rushed to the front of its cage. It would have gone ill then with
the minister, had not as sudden a change followed; the very same
instant, it was as if an invisible veil, woven of gracious air and
odour and dew, had descended upon him; the flame of his wrath went
out, quenched utterly; a smile of benignest compassion overspread
his countenance; in his offender he saw only a brother. But Mr.
Sclater saw no brother before him, for when Gibbie rose he drew back
to better his position, and so doing made it an awkard one indeed.
For it happened occasionally that, the study being a warm room,
Mrs. Sclater, on a winter evening, sat there with her husband,
whence it came that on the floor squatted a low foot-stool, subject
to not unfrequent clerical imprecation: when he stepped back, he
trod on the edge of it, stumbled, and fell. Gibbie darted forward.
A part of the minister's body rested upon the stool, and its
elevation, made the first movement necessary to rising rather
difficult, so that he could not at once get off his back.

What followed was the strangest act for a Scotch boy, but it must be
kept in mind how limited were his means of expression. He jumped
over the prostrate minister, who the next moment seeing his face
bent over him from behind, and seized, like the gamekeeper, with
suspicion born of his violence, raised his hands to defend himself,
and made a blow at him. Gibbie avoided it, laid hold of his arms
inside each elbow, clamped them to the floor, kissed him on forehead
and cheek, and began to help him up like a child.

Having regained his legs, the minister stood for a moment, confused
and half-blinded. The first thing he saw was a drop of blood
stealing down Gibbie's forehead. He was shocked at what he had
done. In truth he had been frightfully provoked, but it was not for
a clergyman so to avenge an insult, and as mere chastisement it was
brutal. What would Mrs. Sclater say to it? The rascal was sure to
make his complaint to her! And there too was his friend, the
herd-lad, in the drawing-room with her!

"Go and wash your face," he said, "and come back again directly."

Gibbie put his hand to his face, and fe