y rushed he turned and fled. The boys
ran into the middle of the street, pointing after the coward and
shouting, "Yeh! yeh! yeh!" with the infinite cruel derision of boyhood.

"Yeh! yeh! yeh!" the cries of execration and contempt pursued him as he
ran.

* * * * *

Ere he had gone a hundred yards he heard the shrill whistle with which
Mr. Gemmell summoned his scholars from their play.

CHAPTER VIII.

All the children had gone into school. The street was lonely in the
sudden stillness. The joiner slanted across the road, brushing shavings
and sawdust from his white apron. There was no other sign of life in the
sunshine. Only from the smiddy, far away, came at times the tink of an
anvil.

John crept on up the street, keeping close to the wall. It seemed
unnatural being there at that hour; everything had a quiet, unfamiliar
look. The white walls of the houses reproached the truant with their
silent faces.

A strong smell of wallflowers oozed through the hot air. John thought it
a lonely smell, and ran to get away.

"Johnny dear, what's wrong wi' ye?" cried his mother, when he stole in
through the scullery at last. "Are ye ill, dear?"

"I wanted to come hame," he said. It was no defence; it was the sad and
simple expression of his wish.

"What for, my sweet?"

"I hate the school," he said bitterly; "I aye want to be at hame."

His mother saw his cut mouth.

"Johnny," she cried in concern, "what's the matter with your lip, dear?
Has ainybody been meddling ye?"

"It was Swipey Broon," he said.

"Did ever a body hear?" she cried. "Things have come to a fine pass when
decent weans canna go to the school without a wheen rag-folk yoking on
them! But what can a body ettle? Scotland's not what it used to be!
It's owrerun wi' the dirty Eerish!"

In her anger she did not see the sloppy dishclout on the scullery chair,
on which she sank exhausted by her rage.

"Oh, but I let him have it," swaggered John. "I threatened to knock the
fleas off him. The other boys were on _his_ side, or I would have
walloped him."

"Atweel, they would a' be on his side," she cried. "But it's juist envy,
Johnny. Never mind, dear; you'll soon be left the school, and there's
not wan of them has the business that you have waiting ready to step
intil."

"Mother," he pleaded, "let me bide here for the rest o' the day!"

"Oh, but your father, Johnny? If _he_ saw ye!"

"If you gie me some o' your