downstairs, out of doors,
speak of the wind and weather, or what not--he could not refrain from an
unceasing renewal, in imagination, of that interesting enactment. Tilted
on the edge of one foot he stood beside the fireplace, watching his
mother grilling rashers; but there was nothing in grilling, he thought,
unless the Vision grilled. The limp rasher hung down between the bars of
the gridiron like a cat in a child's arms; but there was nothing in
similes, unless She uttered them. He looked at the daylight shadows of a
yellow hue, dancing with the firelight shadows in blue on the whitewashed
chimney corner, but there was nothing in shadows. "Perhaps the new young
wom--sch--Miss Fancy Day will sing in church with us this morning," he
said.

The tranter looked a long time before he replied, "I fancy she will; and
yet I fancy she won't."

Dick implied that such a remark was rather to be tolerated than admired;
though deliberateness in speech was known to have, as a rule, more to do
with the machinery of the tranter's throat than with the matter
enunciated.

They made preparations for going to church as usual; Dick with extreme
alacrity, though he would not definitely consider why he was so
religious. His wonderful nicety in brushing and cleaning his best light
boots had features which elevated it to the rank of an art. Every
particle and speck of last week's mud was scraped and brushed from toe
and heel; new blacking from the packet was carefully mixed and made use
of, regardless of expense. A coat was laid on and polished; then another
coat for increased blackness; and lastly a third, to give the perfect and
mirror-like jet which the hoped-for rencounter demanded.

It being Christmas-day, the tranter prepared himself with Sunday
particularity. Loud sousing and snorting noises were heard to proceed
from a tub in the back quarters of the dwelling, proclaiming that he was
there performing his great Sunday wash, lasting half-an-hour, to which
his washings on working-day mornings were mere flashes in the pan.
Vanishing into the outhouse with a large brown towel, and the above-named
bubblings and snortings being carried on for about twenty minutes, the
tranter would appear round the edge of the door, smelling like a summer
fog, and looking as if he had just narrowly escaped a watery grave with
the loss of much of his clothes, having since been weeping bitterly till
his eyes were red; a crystal drop of water hangin