lved revelations of the character
and proceedings of Mr Malison which appeared to many of the parents
quite incredible--the present occurrence so far surpassed the ordinary,
and had excited the beholders so much, that they could not be quiet
about it. Various were the judgments elicited by the story. The
religious portion of the community seemed to their children to side
with the master; the worldly--namely, those who did not profess to be
particularly religious--all sided with Alec Forbes; with the exception
of a fish-cadger, who had one son, the plague of his life.

Amongst the religious, there was, at least, one exception, too; but he
had no children of his own, and had a fancy for Alec Forbes. That
exception was Thomas Crann, the stone-mason.

CHAPTER XIV.

Thomas Crann was building a house; for he was both contractor--in a
small way, it is true, not undertaking to do anything without the
advance of a good part of the estimate--and day-labourer at his own
job. Having arrived at the point in the process where the assistance of
a carpenter was necessary, he went to George Macwha, whom he found at
his bench, planing. This bench was in a work-shop, with two or three
more benches in it, some deals set up against the wall, a couple of red
cart-wheels sent in for repair, and the tools and materials of his
trade all about. The floor was covered with shavings, or _spales_, as
they are called by northern consent, which a poor woman was busy
gathering into a sack. After a short and gruff greeting on the part of
Crann, and a more cordial reply from Macwha, who ceased his labour to
attend to his visitor, they entered on the business-question, which
having been carefully and satisfactorily discussed, with the aid of
various diagrams upon the half-planed deal, Macwha returned to his
work, and the conversation took a more general scope, accompanied by
the sounds of Macwha's busy instrument.

"A terrible laddie, that Sandy Forbes!" said the carpenter, with a sort
of laugh in the _whishk_ of his plane, as he threw off a splendid
_spale_. "They say he's lickit the dominie, and 'maist been the deid o'
him."

"I hae kent waur laddies nor Sandy Forbes," was Thomas's curt reply.

"Ow, deed ay! I ken naething agen the laddie. Him an' oor Willie's unco
throng."

To this the sole answer Thomas gave was a grunt, and a silence of a few
seconds followed before he spoke, reverting to the point from which
they had started.