of his steady glower.

"Walk," he said, pointing to the gate.

"Oh, I'll walk," bawled Gilmour, screaming now that anger gave him
courage. "Gie me time to get _my_ kist, and I'll walk mighty quick. And
damned glad I'll be to get redd o' you and your hoose. The Hoose wi' the
Green Shutters," he laughed, "hi, hi, hi!--the Hoose wi' the Green
Shutters!"

Gourlay went slowly up to him, opening his eyes on him black and wide.
"You swine!" he said, with quiet vehemence; "for damned little I would
kill ye wi' a glower!"

Gilmour shrank from the blaze in his eyes.

"Oh, dinna be fee-ee-ared," said Gourlay quietly, "dinna be fee-ee-ared.
I wouldn't dirty my hand on 'ee! But get your bit kist, and I'll see ye
off the premises. Suspeecious characters are worth the watching."

"Suspeecious!" stuttered Gilmour, "suspeecious! Wh-wh-whan was I ever
suspeecious? I'll have the law of ye for that. I'll make ye answer for
your wor-rds."

"Imphm!" said Gourlay. "In the meantime, look slippy wi' that bit box o'
yours. I don't like daft folk about _my_ hoose."

"There'll be dafter folk as me in your hoose yet," spluttered Gilmour
angrily, as he turned away.

He went up to the garret where he slept and brought down his trunk. As
he passed through the scullery, bowed beneath the clumsy burden on his
left shoulder, John, recovered from his sobbing, mocked at him.

"Hay-ay-ay," he said, in throaty derision, "my faither's the boy for ye.
Yon was the way to put ye down!"

FOOTNOTES:

[1] _Browdened._ A Scot devoted to his children is said to be "browdened
on his bairns."

[2] _Thowless_, weak, useless.

CHAPTER V.

In every little Scotch community there is a distinct type known as "the
bodie." "What does he do, that man?" you may ask, and the answer will
be, "Really, I could hardly tell ye what he does--he's juist a bodie!"
The "bodie" may be a gentleman of independent means (a hundred a year
from the Funds), fussing about in spats and light check breeches; or he
may be a jobbing gardener; but he is equally a "bodie." The chief
occupation of his idle hours (and his hours are chiefly idle) is the
discussion of his neighbour's affairs. He is generally an "auld
residenter;" great, therefore, at the redding up of pedigrees. He can
tell you exactly, for instance, how it is that young Pin-oe's taking
geyly to the dram; for his grandfather, it seems, was a terrible man for
the drink--ou, just terrible. Why, he went to bed wit