on that sunny morning, when wood was resinous and pungent of
odour, he was suddenly conscious of a varnishy smell, and felt a
misgiving without knowing why. It was years after, in Edinburgh, ere he
knew the reason; he found that he never went past an upholsterer's shop,
on a hot day in spring, without being conscious of a vague depression,
and feeling like a boy slinking into school.

In spite of his forebodings, nothing more untoward befell him that
morning than a cut over the cowering shoulders for being late, as he
crept to the bottom of his class. He reached "leave," the ten minutes'
run at twelve o'clock, without misadventure. Perhaps it was this
unwonted good fortune that made him boastful when he crouched near the
pump among his cronies, sitting on his hunkers with his back to the
wall. Half a dozen boys were about him, and Swipey Broon was in front,
making mud pellets in a trickle from the pump.

He began talking of the new range.

"Yah! Auld Gemmell needn't have let welp at me for being late this
morning," he spluttered big-eyed, nodding his head in aggrieved and
solemn protest. "It wasna _my_ faut! We're getting in a grand new range,
and the whole of the kitchen fireplace has been gutted out to make room
for't; and my mother couldna get my breakfast in time this morning,
because, ye see, she had to boil everything in the parlour--and here,
when she gaed ben the house, the parlour fire was out!

"It's to be a splendid range, the new one," he went on, with a conceited
jerk of the head. "Peter Riney's bringin'd from Skeighan in the
afternune. My father says there winna be its equal in the parish!"

The faces of the boys lowered uncomfortably. They felt it was a silly
thing of Gourlay to blow his own trumpet in this way, but, being boys,
they could not prick his conceit with a quick rejoinder. It is only
grown-ups who can be ironical; physical violence is the boy's repartee.
It had scarcely gone far enough for that yet, so they lowered in
uncomfortable silence.

"We're aye getting new things up at our place," he went on. "I heard my
father telling Gibson the builder he must have everything of the best!
Mother says it'll all be mine some day. I'll have the fine times when I
leave the schule--and that winna be long now, for I'm clean sick o't;
I'll no bide a day longer than I need! I'm to go into the business, and
then I'll have the times. I'll dash about the country in a gig wi' two
dogs wallopping ahin'. I'