vost Connal and Sandy
Toddle, and between them the Deacon, tightly wedged. The Deacon was so
thin (the bodie) that, though he was wedged closely, he could turn and
address himself to Tam Brodie, who was seated next the door.

The fun began when the horses were crawling up the first brae.

The Deacon turned with a wink to Brodie, and dropping a glance on the
crown of Gourlay's hat, "Tummuth," he lisped, "what a dirty place that
ith!" pointing to a hovel by the wayside.

Brodie took the cue at once. His big face flushed with a malicious grin.
"Ay," he bellowed; "the owner o' that maun be married to a dirty wife,
I'm thinking!"

"It must be terrible," said the Deacon, "to be married to a dirty
trollop."

"Terrible," laughed Brodie; "it's enough to give ainy man a gurly
temper."

They had Gourlay on the hip at last. More than arrogance had kept him
off from the bodies of the town; a consciousness also that he was not
their match in malicious innuendo. The direct attack he could meet
superbly, downing his opponent with a coarse birr of the tongue; to the
veiled gibe he was a quivering hulk, to be prodded at your ease. And now
the malignants were around him (while he could not get away)--talking
_to_ each other, indeed, but _at_ him, while he must keep quiet in their
midst.

At every brae they came to (and there were many braes) the bodies played
their malicious game, shouting remarks along the brake, to each other's
ears, to his comprehension.

The new house of Templandmuir was seen above the trees.

"What a splendid house Templandmuir has built!" cried the ex-Provost.

"Splendid!" echoed Brodie. "But a laird like the Templar has a right to
a fine mansion such as that! He's no' like some merchants we ken o' who
throw away money on a house for no other end but vanity. Many a man
builds a grand house for a show-off, when he has verra little to support
it. But the Templar's different. He has made a mint of money since he
took the quarry in his own hand."

"He's verra thick wi' Wilson, I notice," piped the Deacon, turning with
a grin and a gleaming droop of the eye on the head of his tormented
enemy. The Deacon's face was alive and quick with the excitement of the
game, his face flushed with an eager grin, his eyes glittering. Decent
folk in the brake behind felt compunctious visitings when they saw him
turn with the flushed grin and the gleaming squint on the head of his
enduring victim. "Now for another stab!" th