I was strictly forbidden ever to dance, flap my long arms, or otherwise
disport myself near this sacred enclosure, as I sometimes did when the
blood ran high or the temperature low. As for Freddie, he could do no
wrong. At least, he never did. I was in despair about him, and foresaw
trouble.

As to situation, we had the Meadows behind us, and (except the Sciennes
and Merchiston), all was free and open as far as Bruntsfield and the
Borough Muir. But towards Holyrood and the College, what a warren! You
entered by deep archways into secluded yards. Here was a darksome
passage where murder might be (and no doubt had been) done. Here was an
echoing gateway to a coaching inn, with a watchman ready to hit evil
boys over the head with his clapper if they tried to ring his bell, the
bell that announced the arrival of the Dumfries coach "Gladiator" after
thirty hours' detention at the Beeftub in Moffatdale, or the shorter
breathed "four" from Selkirk and Peebles that had changed horses last at
Cockmuir Inn at the back of Kingside.

All this I describe so minutely, once for all, because there is more to
come of it, and these precincts on the southern border of Edinburgh,
where Cromwell had once encamped, were mightily familiar to me before
all was done.

CHAPTER XXV

SATAN FINDS

Of course Christmas time soon came, when we collegers had our first
vacation, and Fred and I footed it down to Eden Valley. They had been
preparing for us, and the puddings, white and black, hung in rows along
the high cross-bars in the kitchen.

Everybody was glad to see us, except, as it appeared at first, Miss
Irma. I called her Irma when I thought of the round locket with the hair
and her mother's picture in it, also the letters she had sent me--though
these were but few, and, for all that was in them, might have been
written to the Doctor. But when I returned and met her full in the
doorway of my grandmother's house, she gave me her hand as calmly as if
she had clean forgotten all that had ever been between us.

For me, I was all shaken and blushing--a sight to be seen. So much so
that Aunt Jen, coming in with the milk for the evening's porridge,
cocked an eye at me curiously. But if Irma felt anything, I am very sure
that it did not show on her face. And that is one of the greatest
advantages girls have--care or not care, they can always hide it.

My mother shed tears over me. My father took stock of my progress, and
asked me fo