at Maister Ericson was come, and wanted to see him.

Robert pitched Hutton's Mathematics into the grate, sprung to his feet,
all but embraced Crookit Caumill on the spot, and was deterred only
by the perturbed look the man wore. Crookit Caumill was a very human
creature, and hadn't a fault but the drink, Miss Napier said. And very
little of that he would have had if she had been as active as she was
willing.

'What's the maitter, Caumill?' asked Robert, in considerable alarm.

'Ow, naething, sir,' returned Campbell.

'What gars ye look like that, than?' insisted Robert.

'Ow, naething. But whan Miss Letty cried doon the close upo' me, she had
her awpron till her een, an' I thocht something bude to be wrang; but I
hadna the hert to speir.'

Robert darted to the door, and rushed to the inn, leaving Caumill
describing iambi on the road behind him.

When he reached The Boar's Head there was nobody to be seen. He darted
up the stair to the room where he had first waited upon Ericson.

Three or four maids stood at the door. He asked no question, but went
in, a dreadful fear at his heart. Two of the sisters and Dr. Gow stood
by the bed.

Ericson lay upon it, clear-eyed, and still. His cheek was flushed. The
doctor looked round as Robert entered.

'Robert,' he said, 'you must keep your friend here quiet. He's broken
a blood-vessel--walked too much, I suppose. He'll be all right soon,
I hope; but we can't be too careful. Keep him quiet--that's the main
thing. He mustn't speak a word.'

So saying he took his leave.

Ericson held out his thin hand. Robert grasped it. Ericson's lips moved
as if he would speak.

'Dinna speik, Mr. Ericson,' said Miss Letty, whose tears were flowing
unheeded down her cheeks, 'dinna speik. We a' ken what ye mean an' what
ye want wi'oot that.'

Then she turned to Robert, and said in a whisper,

'Dr. Gow wadna hae ye sent for; but I kent weel eneuch 'at he wad be a'
the quaieter gin ye war here. Jist gie a chap upo' the flure gin ye want
onything, an' I'll be wi' ye in twa seconds.'

The sisters went away. Robert drew a chair beside the bed, and once more
was nurse to his friend. The doctor had already bled him at the arm:
such was the ordinary mode of treatment then.

Scarcely was he seated, when Ericson spoke--a smile flickering over his
worn face.

'Robert, my boy,' he said.

'Dinna speak,' said Robert, in alarm; 'dinna speak, Mr. Ericson.'

'Nonsense,' returned Ericson, feeb