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I
tried
to
get
this
out
of
my
head
;
but
though
I
took
down
many
interesting
authors
,
old
and
new
,
history
,
poetry
,
and
story-book
,
this
notion
of
my
father
's
hand
of
writing
stuck
to
me
;
and
when
at
length
I
went
back
into
the
kitchen
,
and
sat
down
once
more
to
porridge
and
small
beer
,
the
first
thing
I
said
to
Uncle
Ebenezer
was
to
ask
him
if
my
father
had
not
been
very
quick
at
his
book
.
"
Alexander
?
No
him
!
"
was
the
reply
.
"
I
was
far
quicker
mysel
'
;
I
was
a
clever
chappie
when
I
was
young
.
Why
,
I
could
read
as
soon
as
he
could
.
"
This
puzzled
me
yet
more
;
and
a
thought
coming
into
my
head
,
I
asked
if
he
and
my
father
had
been
twins
.
He
jumped
upon
his
stool
,
and
the
horn
spoon
fell
out
of
his
hand
upon
the
floor
.
"
What
gars
ye
ask
that
?
"
he
said
,
and
he
caught
me
by
the
breast
of
the
jacket
,
and
looked
this
time
straight
into
my
eyes
:
his
own
were
little
and
light
,
and
bright
like
a
bird
's
,
blinking
and
winking
strangely
.
"
What
do
you
mean
?
"
I
asked
,
very
calmly
,
for
I
was
far
stronger
than
he
,
and
not
easily
frightened
.
"
Take
your
hand
from
my
jacket
.
This
is
no
way
to
behave
.
"
My
uncle
seemed
to
make
a
great
effort
upon
himself
.
"
Dod
man
,
David
,
"
he
said
,
"
ye
should-nae
speak
to
me
about
your
father
.
That
's
where
the
mistake
is
.
"
He
sat
awhile
and
shook
,
blinking
in
his
plate
:
"
He
was
all
the
brother
that
ever
I
had
,
"
he
added
,
but
with
no
heart
in
his
voice
;
and
then
he
caught
up
his
spoon
and
fell
to
supper
again
,
but
still
shaking
.
Now
this
last
passage
,
this
laying
of
hands
upon
my
person
and
sudden
profession
of
love
for
my
dead
father
,
went
so
clean
beyond
my
comprehension
that
it
put
me
into
both
fear
and
hope
.
On
the
one
hand
,
I
began
to
think
my
uncle
was
perhaps
insane
and
might
be
dangerous
;
on
the
other
,
there
came
up
into
my
mind
(
quite
unbidden
by
me
and
even
discouraged
)
a
story
like
some
ballad
I
had
heard
folk
singing
,
of
a
poor
lad
that
was
a
rightful
heir
and
a
wicked
kinsman
that
tried
to
keep
him
from
his
own
.
For
why
should
my
uncle
play
a
part
with
a
relative
that
came
,
almost
a
beggar
,
to
his
door
,
unless
in
his
heart
he
had
some
cause
to
fear
him
?
With
this
notion
,
all
unacknowledged
,
but
nevertheless
getting
firmly
settled
in
my
head
,
I
now
began
to
imitate
his
covert
looks
;
so
that
we
sat
at
table
like
a
cat
and
a
mouse
,
each
stealthily
observing
the
other
.
Not
another
word
had
he
to
say
to
me
,
black
or
white
,
but
was
busy
turning
something
secretly
over
in
his
mind
;
and
the
longer
we
sat
and
the
more
I
looked
at
him
,
the
more
certain
I
became
that
the
something
was
unfriendly
to
myself
.
When
he
had
cleared
the
platter
,
he
got
out
a
single
pipeful
of
tobacco
,
just
as
in
the
morning
,
turned
round
a
stool
into
the
chimney
corner
,
and
sat
awhile
smoking
,
with
his
back
to
me
.
"
Davie
,
"
he
said
,
at
length
,
"
I
've
been
thinking
;
"
then
he
paused
,
and
said
it
again
.
"
There
's
a
wee
bit
siller
that
I
half
promised
ye
before
ye
were
born
,
"
he
continued
;
"
promised
it
to
your
father
.
O
,
naething
legal
,
ye
understand
;
just
gentlemen
daffing
at
their
wine
.
