"Will ye no wait until ye are invitit?" he inquired sardonically. "Still, if there is anything good in yon basket ye can leave it with me."
A grimy hand descended into the basket Rae carried and reappeared clutching the neck of a bottle, while a derisive grin suffused the speaker's unwashed countenance.
"I'm thinking I'll just keep it with thanks. It's whiles more comforting than tracts."
The Reverend Andrew Rae had perhaps studied more than theology at a certain university, for there was a twinkle in his eyes as he laid one hand on Johnstone's wrist.
"Not so fast!" he said. "That is Miss Chatterton's property, and I did not hear you ask her permission."
He used no apparent violence, but his fingers tightened steadily, and Johnstone gasped with astonishment as he relinquished his hold upon the bottle.
"Am I to be insulted in my own house?" he cried. "Away with ye! A free man's dwelling is his castle."
"Havers!" exclaimed a voice behind them; and a neatly dressed young man joined the group. "If it's anybody's castle it's the man's who pays the rent, and that's more than Rab Johnstone has done for long, I'm thinking. If ye an' Miss Chatterton are for stepping in to see Mary we'd take it kindly, sir."
Johnstone senior slouched away down the street, frowning scornfully.
"I am glad to see you have prospered since you took to honest ways, Jim," Rae said.