A fire blazed cheerily in the little grate. A bed
with snow-white coverlet stood in a recess.

'This is the nicest room in the house, Robert,' said the doctor. 'When I
was a student like you--'

Robert shook his head,

'I'm nae student yet,' he said; but the doctor went on:

'I had the benn end of my father's cottage to study in, for he treated
me like a stranger-gentleman when I came home from college. The father
respected the son for whose advantage he was working like a slave from
morning till night. My heart is sometimes sore with the gratitude I feel
to him. Though he's been dead for thirty years--would you believe it,
Robert?--well, I can't talk more about him now. I made this room as like
my father's benn end as I could, and I am happier here than anywhere in
the world.'

By this time Robert was perfectly at home. Before the dinner was ready
he had not only told Dr. Anderson his present difficulty, but his whole
story as far back as he could remember. The good man listened eagerly,
gazed at the boy with more and more of interest, which deepened till
his eyes glistened as he gazed, and when a ludicrous passage intervened,
welcomed the laughter as an excuse for wiping them. When dinner was
announced, he rose without a word and led the way to the dining-room.
Robert followed, and they sat down to a meal simple enough for such a
house, but which to Robert seemed a feast followed by a banquet.
For after they had done eating--on the doctor's part a very meagre
performance--they retired to his room again, and then Robert found the
table covered with a snowy cloth, and wine and fruits arranged upon it.

It was far into the night before he rose to go home. As he passed
through a thick rain of pin-point drops, he felt that although those
cold granite houses, with glimmering dead face, stood like rows of
sepulchres, he was in reality walking through an avenue of homes. Wet
to the skin long before he reached Mrs. Fyvie's in the auld toon, he was
notwithstanding as warm as the under side of a bird's wing. For he had
to sit down and write to his grandmother informing her that Dr. Anderson
had employed him to copy for the printers a book of his upon the Medical
Boards of India, and that as he was going to pay him for that and other
work at a rate which would secure him ten shillings a week, it would be
a pity to lose a year for the chance of getting a bursary next winter.

The doctor did want the manuscript copied; and h