ich he could not pay; he must swallow his pride and
try to borrow it in Barbie. He thought of trying Johnny Coe, for Johnny
was of yielding nature, and had never been unfriendly.

He turned, twenty yards from his gate, and looked at the House with the
Green Shutters. He had often turned to look back with pride at the
gawcey building on its terrace, but never as he looked to-day. All that
his life meant was bound up in that house--it had been the pride of the
Gourlays; now it was no longer his, and the Gourlays' pride was in the
dust--their name a by-word. As Gourlay looked, a robin was perched on
the quiet roof-tree, its breast vivid in the sun. One of his metaphors
flashed at the sight. "Shame is sitting there too," he muttered, and
added with a proud, angry snarl, "on the riggin' o' _my_ hoose!"

He had a triple wrath to his son. He had not only ruined his own life;
he had destroyed his father's hope that by entering the ministry he
might restore the Gourlay reputation. Above all, he had disgraced the
House with the Green Shutters. That was the crown of his offending.
Gourlay felt for the house of his pride even more than for
himself--rather the house was himself; there was no division between
them. He had built it bluff to represent him to the world. It was his
character in stone and lime. He clung to it, as the dull, fierce mind,
unable to live in thought, clings to a material source of pride. And
John had disgraced it. Even if fortune took a turn for the better, Green
Shutters would be laughed at the country over, as the home of a
prodigal.

As he went by the Cross, Wilson (Provost this long while) broke off a
conversation with Templandmuir, to yell, "It's gra-and weather, Mr.
Gourlay!" The men had not spoken for years. So to shout at poor Gourlay
in his black hour, from the pinnacle of civic greatness, was a fine
stroke: it was gloating, it was rubbing in the contrast. The words were
innocent, but that was nothing; whatever the remark, for a declared
enemy to address Gourlay in his shame was an insult: that was why Wilson
addressed him. There was something in the very loudness of his tones
that cried plainly, "Aha, Gourlay! Your son has disgraced you, my man!"
Gourlay glowered at the animal and plodded dourly. Ere he had gone ten
yards a coarse laugh came bellowing behind him. They saw the colour
surge up the back of his neck, to the roots of his hair.

He stopped. Was his son's disgrace known in Barbie already