He struck away south through Dowanhill and Partick, and crossed the Clyde at Govan Ferry; then he made his way back to the town and Jamaica Street bridge; and finally, it being now dusk, looked in to see whether Mrs. Menzies was at leisure for the evening.
'What's the matter, Ronald?' she said instantly, as he entered, for she noticed that his look was careworn and strange.
'Well, Katie, lass, I don't quite know what's the matter wi' me, but I feel as if I just couldna go back to that room of mine and sit there by myself—at least not yet; I think I've been put a bit daft wi' seeing the people going away for the Twelfth; and if ye wouldna mind my sitting here for a while with ye, for the sake o' company——'
'Mind!' she said. 'Mind! What I do mind is that you should be ganging to that lodging-house at a', when there's a room—and a comfortable room, though I say it that shouldn't—in this very house at your disposal, whenever ye like to bring your trunk till it. There it is—an empty room, used by nobody—and who more welcome to it than my ain cousin? I'll tell ye what, Ronald, my lad, ye're wearing yoursel' away on a gowk's errand. Your certificate! How do ye ken ye'll get your certificate? How do ye ken ye will do such great things with it when ye get it? You're a young man; you'll no be a young man twice; what I say is, take your fling when ye can get it! Look at Jimmy Laidlaw—he's off the first thing in the morning to the Mearns—£15 for his share of the shooting—do ye think he can shoot like you?—and why should ye no have had your share too?'
'Well, it was very kind of you, Katie, woman, to make the offer; but—but—there's a time for everything.'
'Man, I could have driven ye out every morning in the dog-cart! and welcome. I'm no for having young folk waste the best years of their life, and find out how little use the rest o't's to them—no that I consider mysel' one o' the auld folk yet——'
'You, Katie dear!' whined old mother Paterson from her millinery corner. 'You—just in the prime o' youth, one micht say! you one o' the auld folk?—ay, in thirty years' time maybe!'
'Take my advice, Ronald, my lad,' said the widow boldly. 'Dinna slave away for naething—because folk have put fancy notions into your head. Have a better opinion o' yoursel'! Take your chance o' life when ye can get it—books and books, what's the use o' books?'
'Too late now—I've made my bed and maun lie on it,' he said gloomily; but then he seemed to try to shake off this depression. 'Well, well, lass, Rome was not built in a day. And if I were to throw aside my books, what then? How would that serve? Think ye that that would make it any the easier for me to get a three-weeks' shooting wi' Jimmy Laidlaw?'
'And indeed ye might have had that in any case, and welcome,' said Kate Menzies, with a toss of her head. 'Who is Jimmy Laidlaw, I wonder! But it's no use arguin' wi' ye, Ronald, lad; he that will to Cupar maun to Cupar;' only I dinna like to see ye looking just ill.'