The boys gave themselves wholly up to amusement throughout all the festive season. But to their credit be it said, they did not gorge on goose, turkey, or pudding as everybody else did.
"No wonder," thought Duncan, "that the Englishman is called John Guttle in many parts of Scotland." For he had never seen such eating or drinking in his life before.
Then after the festivities of the festive week came dulness and dreariness extreme. The people had spent all their money, and wretchedness abounded on every pavement of the sleet-swept streets of the city. Yes, and the misery even overflowed into the west-end suburbs.
It was about this time that Duncan made a discovery.
Frank had told him, frankly enough, that his father was not over-well off, but it was evident to him now that Colonel Trelawney was simply struggling to keep up appearances, and that, in all probability, he was deeply in debt.
Mrs. Trelawney, or "dear Auntie", as the Scotch lads called her, was ever the same. Nothing seemed to trouble or worry her.
But the colonel at breakfast used to take up his letters, one by one, and eye them with some degree of suspicion before opening them.
The waste-paper basket was close to him, and was wonderfully handy.
"The first application," he would say with a smile as he tore up a bill and summarily disposed of the fragments.
"Second application"--that too was torn up.