t onst agin! Ah, and
theer's none like the Gray Dogs--they all says that, and I say so
masel'; none like the Gray Dogs o' Kenmuir, bless 'em! And we'll win
agin too--" he broke off short; his eye had travelled down to the last
name on the list.

"'M'Adam's Wull'!" he read with unspeakable contempt, and put his great
thumb across the name as though to wipe it out. "'M'Adam's Wull'! Goo'
gracious sakes! P-hg-h-r-r! "--and he made a motion as though to spit
upon the ground.

But a little shoulder was into his side, two small fists were beating
at his chest, and a shrill voice was yelling: "Devil! devil! stan'
awa'!"--and he was tumbled precipitately away from the mantelpiece, and
brought up abruptly against the side-wall.

The precious Cup swayed on its ebony stand, the boy's hands, rudely
withdrawn, almost overthrowing it. But the little man's first impulse,
cursing and screaming though he was, was to steady it.

"'M'Adam's Wull'! I wish he was here to teach ye, ye snod-faced,
ox-limbed profleegit!" he cried, standing in front of the Cup, his eyes
blazing.

"Ay, 'M'Adam's Wull'! And why not 'M'Adam's Wull'? Ha' ye ony objections
to the name?"

"I didn't know yo' was theer," said David, a thought sheepishly.

"Na; or ye'd not ha' said it."

"I'd ha' thought it, though," muttered the boy.

Luckily, however, his father did not hear. He stretched his hands up
tenderly for the Cup, lifted it down, and began reverently to polish the
dimmed sides with his handkerchief.

"Ye're thinkin', nae doot," he cried, casting up a vicious glance at
David, "that Wullie's no gude enough to ha' his name alangside o'
they cursed Gray Dogs. Are ye no? Let's ha' the truth for aince--for a
diversion."

"Reck'n he's good enough if there's none better," David replied
dispassionately.

"And wha should there be better? Tell me that, ye muckle gowk."

David smiled.

"Eh, but that'd be long tellin', he said.

"And what wad ye mean by that?" his father cried.

"Nay; I was but thinkin' that Mr. Moore's Bob'll look gradely writ under
yon." He pointed to the vacant space below Red Wull's name.

The little man put the Cup back on its pedestal with hurried hands. The
handkerchief dropped unconsidered to the floor; he turned and sprang
furiously at the boy, who stood against the wall, still smiling; and,
seizing him by the collar of his coat, shook him to and fro with fiery
energy.

"So ye're hopin', prayin', nae doot, that James Moor