“Yes, my father is Provost.”
“Ah! but mine is only a poor farmer, and I am really only a farm-servant to him. If I get a bursary this year, I will get on; if not, I shall have to go back again to the plough.”
“Poor fellow! what is your name?”
“Sandie M‘Crae.”
“Well, Sandie, I like you; you are brave. I rejoiced in the way you stood up for your mother and sister; I’m sure she must be a nice girl.”
“She is the best and sweetest girl in all the parish of Drumlade.”
“And I like the way you tumbled old Eraser, the bully, up, and turned him outside in. Will you come and have supper with me to-night? Do.”
What could Sandie say to this idle but gentle boy? He could not well refuse.
“My life depends on my gaining a bursary,” he replied; “but I will come for two hours.”
“Well, two hours be it.”