he took them all round the
parish in her black reticule basket, velvet cases and all, and showed
them to the goodwives.

Fenwick Minor was home from school, and went about like a dog
worshipping his big brother. This is all about Fenwick Minor.

But Greenbrae parish and its humble, poor simpletons of folk did not
content Fenwick Major long. He went back to Edinburgh, as he told his
father, to read during the summer session; and when we came up again in
November, Fenwick Major was going it harder than ever.

[_Jo Bentley and Tad Anderson look at each other. They know all about
that_.

CHIRNSIDE (_continues_). Then he gave up attending class much, only
turning up for examinations. He had fits of grinding like fire at home.
Again he would chuck the whole thing, and lounge all day and most of the
night about shops in the shady lanes back of the Register. So we knew
that Fenwick Major was burning his fingers. Then he cut classes and
grinds altogether, and when I met him next, blest if he didn't cut me.
That wasn't much, of course, and maybe showed his good taste. But it was
only a year since we chummed--and I knew his people, you know.

Fact was, we felt somebody ought to speak to Fenwick--so all the fellows
said. But of course, when it came to the point, they pitched on me, and
stuck at me till they made me promise.

So I met him and said to him: "Now, look here, Fenwick, this is playing
it pretty low down on the old man at home and your mother. Better let up
on this drinking and cutting round loose. It's skittles anyway, and will
come to no good!" Just as I would say to you fellows.

I think Fenwick Major was first of all a bit staggered at my speaking to
him. Later he came to himself, and told me where to go for a meddling
young hypocrite.

"Who are you to come preaching to me, any way?" he said.

And I admitted that I was nobody. But I told him all the same that he
had better listen to what I said.

"You are playing the fool, and you'll come an awful cropper," I went on.
"Not that it matters so much for you, but you've got a father and a
mother to think about."

What Fenwick Major said then about his father and mother I am not going
to tell you. He had maybe half a dozen "wets" on board, so we won't
count him responsible.

But after that Fenwick Major never looked the way I was on. He drank
more than ever, till you could see the shakes on him from the other side
of the street. And there was the damp, bleac