ully.

"Go for him, Jock! You can easy lick him," said a voice encouragingly.

"Pit him oot, Docthor," said Jock, who was a great friend of the family,
and who had a profound respect for the doctor.

"It's beyond me, Jock, I fear. See yon bantam cock! I doubt ye'll hae to
be content," said the doctor, dropping into Jock's kindly Doric.

"Oh, get on there, Murchison," said Dunn impatiently. "You're not going
to make an ass of me; make up your mind to that!"

Jock hesitated, meditating a sudden charge, but checked by his respect
for Doctor Dunn.

"Here, you fellows!" shouted a voice. "Fall in; the band is going to
play! Get into line there, you Tam-o'-shanter; you're stopping the
procesh! Now then, wait for the line, everybody!" It was Little Martin
on top of the van in which were the Scottish players. "Tune, 'Old
Grimes'; words as follows. Catch on, everybody!"

"Old Dunn, old Dunn, old Dunn, old Dunn,
Old Dunn, old Dunn, old Dunn,
Old Dunn, old Dunn, old Dunn, old Dunn,
Old Dunn, old Dunn, old Dunn."

With a delighted cheer the crowd formed in line, and, led by the little
quarter-back on top of the van, they set off down the street, two men at
the heads of the doctor's carriage horses, holding them in place behind
the van. On went the swaying crowd and on went the swaying chant, with
Martin, director of ceremonies and Dunn hurling unavailing objurgations
and entreaties at Jock's head.

Through the uproar a girl's voice reached the doctor's ear:

"Aren't they lovely, Sir?"

The doctor turned to greet a young lady, tall, strong, and with the
beauty of perfect health rather than of classic feature in her face.
There was withal a careless disregard of the feminine niceties of dress.

"Oh, Miss Brodie! Will you not come up? We can easily make room."

"I'd just love to," cried the girl, "but I'm only a humble member of the
procession, following the band and the chariot wheels of the conqueror."
Her strong brown face was all aglow with ardour.

"Conqueror!" growled Dunn. "Not much of a conqueror!"

"Why not? Oh fudge! The game? What matters the game? It's the play we
care about."

"Well spoken, lassie," said the doctor. "That's the true sport."

"Aren't they awful?" cried Dunn. "Look at that young Canadian idiot up
there."

"Well, if you ask me, I think he's a perfect dear," said Miss Brodie,
deliberately. "I'm sure I know him; anyway I'm going to encourage h