lander, had
been fast friends ever since they had come to Canada. They were
slightly above the average pioneer in intelligence and had many
interests in common; so for this reason, as well as a matter of
principle, Big Malcolm avoided the tavern and spent his leisure moments
with his friend.

As they entered, Store Thompson was busy weighing out sugar for a
customer, and glanced up. He was a tall man, with a kind, intelligent
face and a high, bland forehead. He wore steel-rimmed spectacles, but,
when not reading, had them pushed up to the scant line of hair on the
top of his head, and his pale blue eyes blinked kindly at all around.
He stopped in the midst of his calculations to welcome his friends.

"Eh, eh, Malcolm, an' is yon yersel'?" he cried heartily. "It's jist a
lang, lang time since Ah seen ye, man; aye, an' it's the wee man ye
hae. It's a lang time since ye've been to the Glen; jist an
unconscionably lang time; aye, jist that, jist unconscionably like!"
He lingered over the word as he shook hands, and then, after inquiring
for the wife and family, he turned his attention to Scotty, remarked
upon his wonderful growth, and his sturdy limbs, asked him how he was
getting on at school and if he could spell "phthisis."

Scotty hung shyly behind his grandfather, and as soon as the host's
attention was turned from him he escaped. He seated himself carefully
upon a box of red herring, and his eyes wandered wonderingly around the
shop. It was a marvellous place for a boy with sharp eyes and an
inquiring mind. Down one side ran a counter made of smoothed pine
boards and behind it rose a row of shelves reaching to the raftered
ceiling and containing everything the farmers could need, from the
glass jar of peppermint drops on the top shelf to the web of factory
cotton near the floor. The remaining space was crammed with
merchandise. There were boxes of boots, bales of cloth, barrels of
sugar and salt and kerosene, kegs of nails, chests of tea and boxes of
patent medicines; and the combination of odours was not the least
wonderful thing in this wonderful museum. Nothing escaped Scotty's
eyes, from the festoons of dried apples suspended from the dark
raftered ceiling to the pile of axe-handles on the floor in the corner.
He sat utterly absorbed, while his grandfather and Store Thompson
talked. There was much to tell on one side, at least, for Store
Thompson and the schoolmaster took a weekly newspaper between