er invented than believed in.

"The warst o' 't is," continued Donal, "I canna weel shaw mysel'
wantin' shune. I hae a pair i' my kist, an' anither upo' my back,--but
nane for my feet."

"There's sutors enew," said the innkeeper.

"Weel we'll see as we gang. I want a word wi' the minister. Wad ye
direc' me to the manse?"

"He's frae hame. But it's o' sma' consequence; he disna care aboot
tramps, honest man! He winna waur muckle upo' the likes o' you."

The landlord was recovering himself--therefore his insolence.

Donal gave a laugh. Those who are content with what they are, have the
less concern about what they seem. The ambitious like to be taken for
more than they are, and may well be annoyed when they are taken for
less.

"I'm thinkin' ye wadna waur muckle on a tramp aither!" he said.

"I wad not," answered Glumm. "It's the pairt o' the honest to
discoontenance lawlessness."

"Ye wadna hang the puir craturs, wad ye?" asked Donal.

"I wad hang a wheen mair o' them."

"For no haein' a hoose ower their heads? That's some hard! What gien
ye was ae day to be in want o' ane yersel'!"

"We'll bide till the day comes.--But what are ye stan'in' there for?
Are ye comin' in, or are ye no?"

"It's a some cauld welcome!" said Donal. "I s' jist tak a luik aboot
afore I mak up my min'. A tramp, ye ken, needsna stan' upo' ceremony."

He turned away and walked further along the street.

CHAPTER V.

THE COBBLER.

At the end of the street he came to a low-arched gateway in the middle
of a poor-looking house. Within it sat a little bowed man, cobbling
diligently at a boot. The sun had left behind him in the west a heap
of golden refuse, and cuttings of rose and purple, which shone right in
at the archway, and let him see to work. Here was the very man for
Donal! A respectable shoemaker would have disdained to patch up the
shoes he carried--especially as the owner was in so much need of them.

"It's a bonny nicht," he said.

"Ye may weel mak the remark, sir!" replied the cobbler without looking
up, for a critical stitch occupied him. "It's a balmy nicht."

"That's raither a bonny word to put til't!" returned Donal. "There's a
kin' o' an air aboot the place I wad hardly hae thoucht balmy! But
troth it's no the fau't o' the nicht!"

"Ye're richt there also," returned the cobbler--his use of the
conjunction impressing Donal. "Still, the weather has to du wi' the
smell--wi' the mair or less o'