The dinner hour arrived. There was no hurrying through this meal, for Uncle James had much to say to all, but particularly to Robin, whom he found intelligent, considering his opportunities. Jennie seemed to her uncle her mother's second self. She was staid enough then; but in her black eyes the vivacity of her nature could not wholly be concealed.
The dinner being over, Robin harnessed a horse and took his uncle to Archie Lindsay's, where he was to spend the afternoon. Robin chatted all the way, glad of an opportunity to satisfy his inquiring mind. The drift of his questions was towards America. "I would like to live in that country," said he.
"Why is that?" asked his uncle. "Is not Scotland a bonny country?"
"Scotland is well enough—leastways it is bonny enough; but I would like to live where one man is as gude as another; where one can buy land and settle as he pleases. Awa wi' the landlords! Mony of them are all right, but some of them are bad enough; and it often happens that an honest man maun work for a scoundrel, and maun dance to his piping whether he pipes right or wrang."
"Robin," said his uncle, "are you not indulging in unprofitable thoughts? Scotland rears many eminent men. Surely her sons have a chance to become both good and great. Emulate those who have become so, and do not vex yourself with that which is beyond your control. You certainly have nothing to complain of."
"No, I havena; but I see them that have. I see the poor far down, and there is nae way to help them up."
"You take a one-sided view of the matter. Do you suppose there are no poor in America?"
"Na, I dinna suppose that; but if they are puir, there is naebody to lord it over them. Uncle Jamie, ye mind auld Sawny McKay? Well, he is dead, but the auld wife lives. She is weak and seck, and she had a notion for some broth. Geordie, her youngest lad, took a hare frae the wood to mak a sup for his auld mither. Somebody told o' it, and a muckle ado was made aboot it, and the lad had to pay a heavy fine that was hard upon him, for he has but sma' wages. Noo, I dinna say it was right in Geordie—maybe it wasna—but I like him a' the better for it. He is a right gude lad, and he never would hae dune it for himsel; he tauld me sae. Weel, I was that angry I said, 'Geordie, let us gang to the United States of America. There ye may tak not only hares, but better game.' Ye s'ould hae seen the light glint in his eye! But it went frae them in a moment. 'Na, I canna; I wunna leave my mither,' said he."
Robin paused, expecting his uncle to approve of the indignation he had felt. But James Murdoch said nothing. Taking from his pocket a sovereign he put it into Robin's hand.