Kind opened the door exultingly.
"Enter, Mr. Gowrie," said he jubilantly, "you're just in time."
[CHAPTER XV]
A FRIEND IN NEED
Elspeth sprang forward to welcome her father. As she had confessed once or twice to Herries, she had no great love for him, since he had not treated her as he should have done. All the same he was her father, and the sole relation she had in the world, so, when she beheld him stagger into the caravan, looking more or less a wreck, all the woman's heart of her went out to the old reprobate. On his side also, Gowrie seemed glad to meet his deserted child, and patted her hand, as he sank into the chair vacated by Kind.
Neither the Cheap-jack, nor the girl thought of telling the new-corner that Herries was stretched at full length under his gouty feet, as they feared lest the greed of money should lead Mr. Gowrie into betraying the young man. Herries likewise, recognising the voice, and hearing Kind's boisterous welcome, knew that the long-sought-for witness was seated overhead, but he also declined to trust himself to so slippery a gentleman. He therefore lay still and stiff, listening to the conversation, anxious only to hear if his former tutor could throw light on the subject of the murder.
"Weel, weel," muttered Gowrie, while his daughter and Kind stared at him in silence, "it's a braw welcome ye've given the auld mon. Mae ain flesh an' bluid's kinder nor the warld I'm theenking. Aye, aye, and there'll be whusky aboot maybe."
Sweetlips, seeing that the old creature was more or less exhausted, poured him out a glass of Glenlivet, and while Gowrie smacked his lips over the unaccustomed luxury,--for that it was, since he appeared to be as poor as the proverbial church mouse,--Elspeth stared at the parent she was ordered to love, honour and obey. He did not seem to be the sort of father to whom the text applied. His hand shook, as he sipped the strong drink, and his white head quivered as though he had the palsy. The fringe of silvery hair round his bald head gave him a patriarchal appearance, and his beard was one Aaron might have envied, so long and venerable had it grown. His clothes were still dirty and disreputable, and his face was still inflamed with drink. On the whole the Rev. Michael Gowrie looked like a man with whom the world had gone badly, and Elspeth shuddered, when she reflected that this wreck had the right to call her his daughter. However, she was sorry for him, so old and weak did he look, and tended to him silently.
"Will you have some food?"
"Nae, nae, my lassie. It's the gude barley-bree that's needed. A bite an hoor or twa later, wud dae me nae hairm, I'm theenking, but we'll dae wi' the whusky at preesent. Aye, aye, this is a hoose o' refuge, Elspeth. Ye mauna turn yer puir auld faither oot into the confleect o' the elements. Ice, snaw, an' rain, all praisin' Providence, forebye, it's but rain, ye ken."