"My dear,"--she always spoke to me now as if I had been her son--"this
`waif,' as people would call him, has clearly been sent to me as a
comfort in the midst of all but overwhelming sorrow; and I believe, too,
that I have been sent to draw the dear boy to Jesus. You should hear
what long and pleasant talks we have about Him, and the Bible, and the
`better land' sometimes."

"Indeed! I am glad to hear you say so, granny, and also surprised,
because, although I believe the boy to be well disposed, I have seldom
been able to get him to open his lips to me on religious subjects."

"Ah! but he opens his dear lips to me, doctor, and reads to me many a
long chapter out of the blessed Word!"

"Reads! Can he read?"

"Ay can he!--not so badly, considering that I only began to teach him
two or three months ago. But he knew his letters when we began, and
could spell out a few words. He's very quick, you see, and a dear boy!"

Soon afterwards we made this arrangement with Robin more convenient for
all parties, by bringing Mrs Willis over to a better lodging in one of
the small back streets not far from the doctor's new residence.

I now began to devote much of my time to the study of chemistry, not
only because it suited Dr McTougall that I should do so, but because I
had conceived a great liking for that science, and entertained some
thoughts of devoting myself to it almost exclusively.

In the various experiments connected therewith I was most ably, and, I
may add, delightedly, assisted by Robin Slidder. I was also greatly
amused by, and induced to philosophise not a little on the peculiar cast
of the boy's mind. The pleasure obviously afforded to him by the
uncertainty as to results in experiments was very great. The
probability of a miscarriage created in him intense interest--I will not
say hope! The ignorance of what was coming kept him in a constant
flutter of subdued excitement, and the astounding results (even
sometimes to myself) of some of my combinations, kept him in a perpetual
simmer of expectation. But after long observation, I have come to the
deliberate conclusion that nothing whatever gave Robin such ineffable
joy as an explosion! A crash, a burst, a general reduction of anything
to instantaneous and elemental ruin, was so dear to him that I verily
believe he would have taken his chance, and stood by, if I had proposed
to blow the roof off Dr McTougall's mansion. Nay, I almost think that
if that