as by acid, in the very middle of his swaggering gusto.
That gusto was largely real, true, for it seemed a fine thing to go
splurging off to College in a gig; but it was still more largely
assumed, to combat the sorrow of departure. His heart was in his boots
at the thought of going back to accursed Edinburgh--to those lodgings,
those dreary, damnable lodgings. Thus his nature was reduced to its real
elements in the hour of leaving home; it was only for a swift moment he
forgot to splurge, but for that moment the cloak of his swaggering
dropped away, and he was his naked self, morbidly alive to the
impressions of the world, afraid of life, clinging to the familiar and
the known. That was why he gazed with wistful eyes at that laurel clump,
so vivid in the pouring rays. So vivid there, it stood for all the dear
country round which was now hidden by the darkness; it centred his world
among its leaves. It was a last picture of loved Barbie that was
fastening on his mind. There would be fine gardens in Edinburgh, no
doubt; but oh, that couthie laurel by the Red Lion door! It was his
friend; he had known it always.

The spell lasted but a moment, one of those moments searching a man's
nature to its depths, yet flitting like a lonely shadow on the autumn
wheat. But Aird was already fidgeting. "Hurry up, Jack," he cried;
"we'll need to pelt if we mean to get the train."

Gourlay started. In a moment he had slipped from one self to another,
and was the blusterer once more. "Right!" he splurged. "Hover a blink
till I light my cigar."

He was not in the habit of smoking cigars, but he had bought a packet on
purpose, that he might light one before his admiring onlookers ere he
went away. Nothing like cutting a dash.

He was seen puffing for a moment with indrawn cheeks, his head to one
side, the flame of the flickering vesta lighting up his face, his hat
pushed back till it rested on his collar, his fair hair hanging down his
brow. Then he sprang to the driving seat and gathered up the reins.
"Ta-ta, Deacon; see and behave yourself!" he flung across his shoulder,
and they were off with a bound.

"Im-pidenth!" said the outraged Deacon.

Peter Riney was quite proud to have the honour of driving two such bucks
to the station. It lent him a consequence; he would be able to say when
he came back that he had been "awa wi' the young mester"--for Peter said
"mester," and was laughed at by the Barbie wits who knew that "maister"
was