"But that's dune wi' noo, and he was worth a' the toil and trouble.
First in the Humanity and first in the Greek, sweepit the field,
Lord preserve us. A' can hardly believe it. Eh, I was feared o' thae
High School lads. They had terrible advantages. Maisters frae
England, and tutors, and whatna', but Drumtochty carried aff the
croon. It'll be fine reading in the papers—
Humanity.—First Prize (and Medal), George Howe, Drumtochty, Perthshire.
Greek.—First Prize (and Medal), George Howe, Drumtochty, Perthshire."
"It'll be michty," cried Whinnie, now fairly on fire.
"And Philosophy and Mathematics to come. Geordie's no bad at Euclid, I'll wager he'll be first there too. When he gets his hand in there's naething he's no fit for wi' time. My ain laddie—and the Doctor's—we maunna forget him—it's his classics he hes, every book o' them. The Doctor 'ill be lifted when he comes back on Saturday. A'm thinkin' we'll hear o't on Sabbath. And Drumsheugh, he'll be naither to had nor bind in the kirk-yard. As for me, I wad na change places wi' the Duke o' Athole," and Domsie shook the table to its foundation.
Then he awoke, as from a dream, and the shame of boasting that shuts the mouths of self-respecting Scots descended upon him.
"But this is fair nonsense. Ye'll no mind the havers o' an auld dominie."
He fell back on a recent roup, and would not again break away, although sorely tempted by certain of Whinnie's speculations.
When I saw him last, his coat-tails were waving victoriously as he leaped a dyke on his way to tell our Drumtochty Maecenas that the judges knew their business.