"I'm sure, Mr Cupples, it was the least thing I could do."
"Ye impident cock! It was the verra best you cud do, or ye wadna hae come within sicht o' me. I mayna be muckle at thrashin' attoarneys, or cuttin' up deid corpuses, but I defy ye to come up to me at onything conneckit wi' buiks."
"Faith! Mr Cupples, ye may gang farther nor that. Efter what ye hae dune for me, gin I war a general, ye sud lead the Forlorn Hope."
"Ay, ay. It's a forlorn hope, a' 'at I'm fit for, Alec Forbes," returned Cupples sadly.
This struck Alec so near his own grief that he could not reply with even seeming cheerfulness. He said nothing. Mr Cupples resumed.
"I hae twa three words to say to you, Alec Forbes. Can ye believe in a man as weel's ye can in a wumman?"
"I can believe in you, Mr Cupples. That I'll sweir till."
"Weel, jist sit doon there, and carry on frae whaur ye loot sit. Syne efter the three o'clock lecture—wha is't ye're atten'in' this session?—we'll gang doon to Luckie Cumstie's, and hae a moufu' o' denner—she 'll do her best for me—an' I'll hae jist a tumler o' toddy—but de'il a drap sall ye hae, bantam—and de'il a word will I say to ye there. But we'll come back here, and i' the gloamin', I'll gie ye a bit episode i' my life.—Episode did I ca' 'it? Faith it's my life itsel', and no worth muckle, eyther. Ye'll be the first man that ever I tell't it till. And ye may judge o' my regaird for ye frae that fac'."
Alec worked away at his catalogue, and then attended the afternoon lecture. The dinner at Luckie Cumstie's followed—of the plainest, but good. Alec's trouble had not yet affected the region in which Paley seats the organ of happiness. And while an appetite exists, a dinner will be interesting. Just as the gloaming was fading into night, they went back to the library.
"Will I rin ower to the sacrist's for a licht?" asked Alec.