's weak frame, and she stopped in a fit of coughing, clutching the
ladder for support, while it shook to her spasms.

"Tuts, Jenny, this'll never do," said Gourlay, not unkindly. He took
the ladder away from her and laid his hand on her shoulder. "Away to
your bed, lass. You maunna sit so late."

But Janet was anxious for her brother, and wanted to sit up till he came
home. She answered, "Yes," to her father, but idled discreetly, to
consume the time.

"Where's my hammer?" snarled Gourlay.

"Is it no by the clock?" said his wife wearily. "Oh, I remember, I
remember! I gied it to Mrs. Webster to break some brie-stone, to rub the
front doorstep wi'. It'll be lying in the porch."

"Oh, ay, as usual," said Gourlay--"as usual."

"John!" she cried in alarm, "you don't mean to take down the gun, do
ye?"

"Huts, you auld fule, what are you skirling for? D'ye think I mean to
shoot the dog? Set back on your creepie and make less noise, will ye?"

Ere he had driven a nail in the rafter John came in, and sat down by the
fire, taking up the great poker, as if to cover his nervousness. If
Gourlay had been on the floor he would have grappled with him there and
then. But the temptation to gloat over his victim from his present
height was irresistible. He went up another step, and sat down on the
very summit of the ladder, his feet resting on one of the lower rounds.
The hammer he had been using was lying on his thigh, his hand clutched
about its haft.

"Ay, man, you've been taking a bit walk, I hear."

John made no reply, but played with the poker. It was so huge, owing to
Gourlay's whim, that when it slid through his fingers it came down on
the muffled hearthstone with a thud like a pavior's hammer.

"I'm told you saw the Deacon on your rounds? Did he compliment you on
your return?"

At the quiet sneer a lightning-flash showed John that Allardyce had
quizzed him too. For a moment he was conscious of a vast self-pity.
"Damn them, they're all down on me," he thought. Then a vindictive rage
against them all took hold of him, tense, quivering.

"Did you see Thomas Brodie when ye were out?" came the suave inquiry.

"I saw him," said John, raising fierce eyes to his father's. He was
proud of the sudden firmness in his voice. There was no fear in it, no
quivering. He was beyond caring what happened to the world or him.

"Oh, you saw him," roared Gourlay, as his anger leapt to meet the anger
of his son. "And what did he say