t a' men and weemin
to be glad, even though they have to work. But hoo' the hell can folk be
happy and worship God on two and sixpence a day? It's all wrong, Andrew,
an' I'll never believe that men were meant to live as we live."

"That's true, Geordie," agreed Andrew soberly. "I only wish we could get
everybody to see it as we see it. There's plenty for a' God's
creatures--enough to make everybody happy, an' there need be no ill-will
in the world, if only common-sense was applied to things; but I'm damn'd
if I can see where even the men can be happy who are making their money
oot o' our lives. They're bound to ken surely that what comes from
misery can not make happiness for them."

"True, Andrew, true, and we maun just go on working for it. Sometimes I
have the feeling that we are on the point of big changes: just as if the
folk would awaken up oot o' their ignorance, with love in their hearts,
an' make all things right for everybody. A world o' happiness for
everybody is worth workin' for. So we maun gang on."

And so they talked of their dreams and felt the better for it.

CHAPTER IV

A YOUNG REBEL

About two years after these events little Robert Sinclair went to
school. It was a fine morning in late spring, and Robert trudged the
seemingly long road, clasping an elder brother's hand, for the school
lay about a mile to the north-west of the village, and that seemed to
the boy a very long way.

It was a great experience. Robert's clothes had been well patched, his
face had been washed and toweled till it shone, his eyes sparkled with
excitement, and his heart beat high; yet he was nervous and awed,
wondering what he would find there.

"By crikey," said wee Alec Johnstone to him, "wait till auld Clapper
gie's ye a biff or twa wi' his muckle tawse. Do ye ken what he does to
mak' them nippy? He burns them a wee bit in the fire, an' then st'eeps
them in whusky. An' they're awful sair."

"Oh, but I ken what to do, Rab, if ye want to diddle him," put in
another boy. "Just get a horse's hair--a lang yin oot o' its tail--and
put it across yer haun', an' it'll cut his tawse in twa, whenever he
gie's ye a pammy."

"That's what I'm gaun to do, Jamie," replied another. "I'll get some
hairs frae Willie Rogerson. He's gettin' me some frae his father's when
he's in the stable the morn, an' ye'll see auld Cabbage-heid's tawse
gaun in twa, whenever he gie's me yin." And they all looked admiringly
at this little