ent wrath, and
spat threats of justice through his green teeth.

"To hell wi' your law-wers!" cried Gourlay. "I'd throttle ye like the
dog you are on the floor o' the House o' Lords."

But that day was to cost him dear. Ere six months passed he was cast in
damages and costs for a breach of contract aggravated by assault. He
appealed, of course. He was not to be done; he would show the dogs what
he thought of them.

CHAPTER XIV.

In those days it came to pass that Wilson sent his son to the High
School of Skeighan--even James, the red-haired one, with the squint in
his eye. Whereupon Gourlay sent _his_ son to the High School of Skeighan
too, of course, to be upsides with Wilson. If Wilson could afford to
send his boy to a distant and expensive school, then, by the Lord, so
could he! And it also came to pass that James, the son of James the
grocer, took many prizes; but John, the son of John, took no prizes.
Whereat there were ructions in the House of Gourlay.

Gourlay's resolve to be equal to Wilson in everything he did was his
main reason for sending his son to the High School of Skeighan. That he
saw his business decreasing daily was a reason too. Young Gourlay was a
lad of fifteen now, undersized for his age at that time, though he soon
shot up to be a swaggering youngster. He had been looking forward with
delight to helping his father in the business--how grand it would be to
drive about the country and see things!--and he had irked at being kept
for so long under the tawse of old Bleach-the-boys. But if the business
went on at this rate there would be little in it for the boy. Gourlay
was not without a thought of his son's welfare when he packed him off to
Skeighan. He would give him some book-lear, he said; let him make a kirk
or a mill o't.

But John shrank, chicken-hearted, from the prospect. Was he still to
drudge at books? Was he to go out among strangers whom he feared? His
imagination set to work on what he heard of the High School of
Skeighan, and made it a bugbear. They had to do mathematics; what could
_he_ do wi' thae whigmaleeries? They had to recite Shakespeare in
public; how could _he_ stand up and spout, before a whole jing-bang o'
them?

"I don't want to gang," he whined.

"Want?" flamed his father. "What does it matter what _you_ want? Go you
shall."

"I thocht I was to help in the business," whimpered John.

"Business!" sneered his father; "a fine help _you_ would be in
busine