Allan and Gourlay were together at all times. Allan
was kind to Jean Richmond's son (in his own ruinous way), but not to
the extent of being burdened with the cub half a dozen times a week.
Gourlay was merely boasting--as young blades are apt to do of
acquaintance with older roisterers. They think it makes them seem men of
the world. And in his desire to vaunt his comradeship with Allan, John
failed to see that Allardyce was scooping him out like an oyster.

"Ay man," resumed the Deacon; "he's a hearty fellow, Jock. No doubt you
have the great thprees?"

"Sprees!" gurgled Gourlay, and flung back his head with a laugh. "I
should think we have. There was a great foy at Allan's the night before
I left Edinburgh. Tarmillan was there--d'ye know, yon's the finest
fellow I ever met in my life!--and Bauldy Logan--he's another great
chap. Then there was Armstrong and Gillespie--great friends of mine, and
damned clever fellows they are, too, I can tell you. Besides us three
there were half a dozen more from the College. You should have heard the
talk! And every man-jack was as drunk as a lord. The last thing I
remember is some of us students dancing round a lamp-post while Logan
whistled a jig."

Though Gourlay the elder hated the Deacon, he had never warned his son
to avoid him. To have said "Allardyce is dangerous" would have been to
pay the old malignant too great a compliment; it would have been beneath
John Gourlay to admit that a thing like Allardyce could harm him and
his. Young Gourlay, therefore, when once set agoing by the Deacon's deft
management, blurted everything without a hanker. Even so, however, he
felt that he had gone too far. He glanced anxiously at his companion.
"Mum's the word about this, of course," he said with a wink. "It would
never do for this to be known about the 'Green Shutters.'"

"Oh, I'm ath thound ath a bell, Dyohn, I'm ath thound ath a bell," said
the Deacon. "Ay, man! You jutht bear out what I have alwayth underthood
about the men o' brainth. They're the heartiest devilth after a'. Burns,
that the baker raves so muckle o', was jutht another o' the thame--jutht
another o' the thame. We'll be hearing o' you boys--Pate Wylie and you
and a wheen mair--having rare ploys in Barbie through the thummer."

"Oh, we'll kick up a bit of a dust," Gourlay sniggered, well pleased.
Had not the Deacon ranked him in the robustious great company of Burns!
"I say, Deacon, come in and have a nip."

"There's