behind the veil of which you probe a man's anguish at your ease, is a
favourite weapon of human beasts anxious to wound. The Deacon longed to
try it on Gourlay. But his courage failed him. It was the only time he
was ever worsted in malignity. Never a man went forth, bowed down with a
recent shame, wounded and wincing from the public gaze, but that old
rogue hirpled up to him, and lisped with false smoothness: "Thirce me,
neebour, I'm thorry for ye! Thith ith a _terrible_ affair! It'th on
everybody'th tongue. But ye have my thympathy, neebour, ye have
tha-at--my warmetht thympathy." And all the while the shifty eyes above
the lying mouth would peer and probe, to see if the soul within the
other was writhing at his words.

Now, though everybody was spying at Gourlay in the market, all were
giving him a wide berth; for they knew that he was dangerous. He was no
longer the man whom they had baited on the way to Skeighan; then he had
some control, now three years' calamities had fretted his temper to a
raw wound. To flick it was perilous. Great was the surprise of the
starers, therefore, when the idle old Deacon was seen to detach himself
and hail the grain merchant. Gourlay wheeled, and waited with a levelled
eye. All were agog at the sight--something would be sure to come o'
this--here would be an encounter worth the speaking o'. But the Deacon,
having toddled forward a bittock on his thin shanks, stopped half-roads,
took snuff, trumpeted into his big red handkerchief, and then, feebly
waving, "I'll thee ye again, Dyohn," clean turned tail and toddled back
to his cronies.

A roar went up at his expense.

"God!" said Tam Wylie, "did ye see yon? Gourlay stopped him wi' a
glower."

But the laugh was maddening to Gourlay. Its readiness, its volume,
showed him that scores of folk had him in their minds, were watching
him, considering his position, cognizant of where he stood. "They ken,"
he thought. "They were a' waiting to see what would happen. They wanted
to watch how Gourlay tholed the mention o' his son's disgrace. I'm a
kind o' show to them."

Johnny Coe, idle and well-to-pass, though he had no business of his own
to attend to, was always present where business men assembled. It was a
gra-and way of getting news. To-day, however, Gourlay could not find
him. He went into the cattle mart to see if he was there. For two years
now Barbie had a market for cattle, on the first Tuesday of the month.

The auctioneer, a jo