That answer was forthcoming at once.
“Do!” said the Rector, “yes, my dear boy, you’ll do. Yours is more than a chance; it is all but a certainty of success. You will, I feel convinced, reap the guerdon of all your long and weary nocturnal studies, and that right soon. But,” he added, “you are not a solitary example of the indomitable energy and perseverance of the Northern Scottish student. You are not the only ploughman-student. Every year we have them. They come from the lowliest of Lowland hamlets and crofters’ cottages, and from the meanest of little Highland huts and shielings. Their mind is in their work. They live apparently on the wind, but night and day they study, and at the end of the curriculum go out into the world an honour and a glory to themselves, and to our great Northern University.
“But now, Mr. M‘Crae, you’ll lose no time. You will come to-morrow. It is version or translation day. Seat yourself at the bottom of the lowest faction, and next morning, when the versions have been examined, you will find your level.”
When Sandie walked homewards that evening, after this memorable interview with the Rector, he felt as if he was treading the air instead of the hard granite streets. He had found himself a lodging in Union Terrace, an attic three storeys high above the street, and which he was to share with a bank-clerk, each paying the modest sum of three shillings, which would include cooking and attendance. The clerk was a modest and retiring young man, but he showed great interest in Sandie’s welfare, and was delighted to hear the result of the interview with the Rector.
Next morning Sandie was early at the Grammar School. He stood modestly in a corner of the quad until such time as the door should be opened by the porter, John. This functionary presently presented himself before Sandie, where he stood for a few moments smiling but silent; then he took a large pinch of snuff, and handed the sneeshin mull to Sandie.
“A stranger, aren’t you?”
“I am that.”
“Well, I’m going to give ye a bit o’ advice.” The old man’s bright eyes sparkled as he spoke, and his rosy cheeks seemed to grow rosier. “The boys,” he said, “will tease you for a bit, but don’t you take any notice of them. There is nothing really bad at their hearts.”
“Thank you,” said Sandie; “I’ll try to take your advice.”
By-and-bye the young men began to arrive in swarms, and Sandie at once became the centre of attraction. It must be confessed that Sandie’s clothes, if not decidedly countrified, were not over fashionable.