der. It's
not a dull red," he said, with a faint return of his old interest in the
curious physical; "it's a gleaming red. They lowe. A' last nicht they
wouldna let me sleep. There was nae gas in my room, and when the candle
went out I could see them everywhere. When I looked to one corner o' the
room, they were there; and when I looked to another corner, they were
there too--glowering at me; glowering at me in the darkness; glowering
at me. Ye mind what a glower he had! I hid from them ablow the claes;
but they followed me--they were burning in my brain. So I gaed oot and
stood by a lamp-post for company. But a constable moved me on; he said I
was drunk because I muttered to mysell. But I wasna drunk then, mother;
I wa-as _not_. So I walkit on, and on, and on the whole nicht; but I aye
keepit to the lamp-posts for company. And than when the public-houses
opened I gaed in and drank and drank. I didna like the drink, for whisky
has no taste to me now. But it helps ye to forget.

"Mother," he went on complainingly, "is it no queer that a pair of een
should follow a man? Just a pair of een! It never happened to onybody
but me," he said dully--"never to onybody but me."

His mother was panting open-mouthed, as if she choked for air, both
hands clutching at her bosom. "Ay," she whispered, "it's queer;" and
kept on gasping at intervals with staring eyes, "It's gey queer; it's
gey queer; it's gey queer."

She took up the needle once more and tried to sew; but her hand was
trembling so violently that she pricked the left forefinger which upheld
her work. She was content thereafter to make loose stabs at the cloth,
with a result that she made great stitches which drew her seam together
in a pucker. Vacantly she tried to smooth them out, stroking them over
with her hand, constantly stroking and to no purpose. John watched the
aimless work with dull and heavy eyes.

For a while there was silence in the kitchen. Janet was coughing in the
room above.

"There's just ae thing'll end it!" said John. "Mother, give me three
shillings."

It was not a request, and not a demand; it was the dull statement of a
need. Yet the need appeared so relentless, uttered in the set fixity of
his impassive voice, that she could not gainsay it. She felt that this
was not merely her son making a demand; it was a compulsion on him
greater than himself.

"There's the money!" she said, clinking it down on the table, and
flashed a resentful smile at