ly
returning to his needlework was more than my imagination could digest.
There was never a man made, and the Master the least of any, that could
accept so long a series of insults. The air smelt blood to me. And I
vowed there should be no neglect of mine if, through any chink of
possibility, crime could be yet turned aside. That same day, therefore,
I came to my lord in his business room, where he sat upon some trivial
occupation.

"My lord," said I, "I have found a suitable investment for my small
economies. But these are unhappily in Scotland; it will take some time
to lift them, and the affair presses. Could your lordship see his way to
advance me the amount against my note?"

He read me a while with keen eyes. "I have never inquired into the state
of your affairs, Mackellar," says he. "Beyond the amount of your
caution, you may not be worth a farthing, for what I know."

"I have been a long while in your service, and never told a lie, nor yet
asked a favour for myself," said I, "until to-day."

"A favour for the Master," he returned quietly. "Do you take me for a
fool, Mackellar? Understand it once and for all, I treat this beast in
my own way; fear nor favour shall not move me; and before I am
hoodwinked, it will require a trickster less transparent than yourself.
I ask service, loyal service; not that you should make and mar behind my
back, and steal my own money to defeat me."

"My lord," said I, "these are very unpardonable expressions."

"Think once more, Mackellar," he replied; "and you will see they fit the
fact. It is your own subterfuge that is unpardonable. Deny (if you can)
that you designed this money to evade my orders with, and I will ask
your pardon freely. If you cannot, you must have the resolution to hear
your conduct go by its own name."

"If you think I had any design but to save you----" I began.

"O! my old friend," said he, "you know very well what I think! Here is
my hand to you with all my heart; but of money, not one rap."

Defeated upon this side, I went straight to my room, wrote a letter, ran
with it to the harbour, for I knew a ship was on the point of sailing;
and came to the Master's door a little before dusk. Entering without the
form of any knock, I found him sitting with his Indian at a simple meal
of maize porridge with some milk. The house within was clean and poor;
only a few books upon a shelf distinguished it, and (in one corner)
Secundra's little bench.

"Mr. Bal