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the gathered harvest。
He tried the air once over in the dark； and then carried his violin
down to the room where Mr。 and Miss Lammie sat。
'I think I can play 't noo； Mr。 Lammie；' he said abruptly。
'Play what； callant？' asked his host。
'The Flooers o' the Forest。'
'Play awa' than。'
And Robert playednot so well as he had hoped。 I dare say it was a
humble enough performance； but he gave something at least of the
expression Mr。 Lammie desired。 For； the moment the tune was over；
he exclaimed；
'Weel dune； Robert man！ ye'll be a fiddler some day yet！'
And Robert was well satisfied with the praise。
'I wish yer mother had been alive；' the farmer went on。 'She wad hae
been rael prood to hear ye play like that。 Eh！ she likit the fiddle
weel。 And she culd play bonny upo' the piana hersel'。 It was
something to hear the twa o' them playing thegither； him on the
fiddlethat verra fiddle o' 's father's 'at ye hae i' yer han'and
her on the piana。 Eh！ but she was a bonnie wuman as ever I saw； an'
that quaiet！ It's my belief she never thocht aboot her ain beowty
frae week's en' to week's en'； and that's no sayin' littleis 't；
Aggy？'
'I never preten't ony richt to think aboot sic；' returned Miss
Lammie； with a mild indignation。
'That's richt； lass。 Od； ye're aye i' the richtthough I say 't
'at sudna。'
Miss Lammie must indeed have been good…natured； to answer only with
a genuine laugh。 Shargar looked explosive with anger。 But Robert
would fain hear more of his mother。
'What was my mother like； Mr。 Lammie？' he asked。
'Eh； my man！ ye suld hae seen her upon a bonnie bay mere that yer
father gae her。 Faith！ she sat as straught as a rash； wi' jist a
hing i' the heid o' her； like the heid o' a halm o' wild aits。'
'My father wasna that ill till her than？' suggested Robert。
'Wha ever daured say sic a thing？' returned Mr。 Lammie； but in a
tone so far from satisfactory to Robert； that he inquired no more in
that direction。
I need hardly say that from that night Robert was more than ever
diligent with his violin。
CHAPTER XXI。
THE DRAGON。
Next day； his foot was so much better that he sent Shargar to
Rothieden to buy the string； taking with him Robert's school…bag； in
which to carry off his Sunday shoes； for as to those left at Dooble
Sanny's； they judged it unsafe to go in quest of them： the soutar
could hardly be in a humour fit to be intruded upon。
Having procured the string； Shargar went to Mrs。 Falconer's。
Anxious not to encounter her； but； if possible； to bag the boots
quietly； he opened the door； peeped in； and seeing no one； made his
way towards the kitchen。 He was arrested； however； as he crossed
the passage by the voice of Mrs。 Falconer calling； 'Wha's that？'
There she was at the parlour door。 It paralyzed him。 His first
impulse was to make a rush and escape。 But the bootshe could not
go without at least an attempt upon them。 So he turned and faced
her with inward trembling。
'Wha's that？' repeated the old lady； regarding him fixedly。 'Ow；
it's you！ What duv ye want？ Ye camna to see me； I'm thinkin'！
What hae ye i' that bag？'
'I cam to coff （buy） twine for the draigon；' answered Shargar。
'Ye had twine eneuch afore！'
'It bruik。 It wasna strang eneuch。'
'Whaur got ye the siller to buy mair？ Lat's see 't？'
Shargar took the string from the bag。
'Sic a sicht o' twine！ What paid ye for 't？'
'A shillin'。'
'Whaur got ye the shillin'？'
'Mr。 Lammie gae 't to Robert。'
'I winna hae ye tak siller frae naebody。 It's ill mainners。 Hae！'
said the old lady； putting her hand in her pocket； and taking out a
shilling。 'Hae；' she said。 'Gie Mr。 Lammie back his shillin'； an'
tell 'im 'at I wadna hae ye learn sic ill customs as tak siller。
It's eneuch to gang sornin' upon 'im （exacting free quarters） as ye
du； ohn beggit for siller。 Are they a' weel？'
'Ay； brawly；' answered Shargar； putting the shilling in his pocket。
In another moment Shargar had； without a word of adieu； embezzled
the shoes； and escaped from the house without seeing Betty。 He went
straight to the shop he had just left； and bought another shilling's
worth of string。
When he got home； he concealed nothing from Robert； whom he found
seated in the barn； with his fiddle； waiting his return。
Robert started to his feet。 He could appropriate his grandfather's
violin； to which； possibly； he might have shown as good a right as
his grandmothercertainly his grandfather would have accorded it
himbut her money was sacred。
'Shargar； ye vratch！' he cried； 'fess that shillin' here direckly。
Tak the twine wi' ye； and gar them gie ye back the shillin'。'
'They winna brak the bargain；' cried Shargar； beginning almost to
whimper； for a savoury smell of dinner was coming across the yard。
'Tell them it's stown siller； and they'll be in het watter aboot it
gin they dinna gie ye 't back。'
'I maun hae my denner first；' remonstrated Shargar。
But the spirit of his grandmother was strong in Robert； and in a
matter of rectitude there must be no temporizing。 Therein he could
be as tyrannical as the old lady herself。
'De'il a bite or a sup s' gang ower your thrapple till I see that
shillin'。'
There was no help for it。 Six hungry miles must be trudged by
Shargar ere he got a morsel to eat。 Two hours and a half passed
before he reappeared。 But he brought the shilling。 As to how he
recovered it； Robert questioned him in vain。 Shargar； in his turn；
was obstinate。
'She's a some camstairy （unmanageable） wife； that grannie o' yours；'
said Mr。 Lammie； when Robert returned the shilling with Mrs。
Falconer's message； 'but I reckon I maun pit it i' my pooch； for she
will hae her ain gait； an' I dinna want to strive wi' her。 But gin
ony o' ye be in want o' a shillin' ony day； lads； as lang 's I'm
abune the yirdthis ane 'll be grown twa； or maybe mair； 'gen that
time。'
So saying； the farmer put the shilling into his pocket； and buttoned
it up。
The dragon flew splendidly now； and its strength was mighty。 It was
Robert's custom to drive a stake in the ground； slanting against the
wind； and thereby tether the animal； as if it were up there grazing
in its own natural region。 Then he would lie down by the stake and
read The Arabian Nights； every now and then casting a glance upward
at the creature alone in the waste air； yet all in his power by the
string at his side。 Somehow the high…flown dragon was a bond
between him and the blue； he seemed nearer to the sky while it flew；
or at least the heaven seemed less far away and inaccessible。 While
he lay there gazing； all at once he would find that his soul was up
with the dragon； feeling as it felt； tossing about with it in the
torrents of the air。 Out at his eyes it would go； traverse the dim
stairless space； and sport with the wind…blown monster。 Sometimes；
to aid his aspiration； he would take a bit of paper； make a hole in
it； pass the end of the string through the hole； and send the
messenger scudding along the line athwart the depth of the wind。 If
it stuck by the way； he would get a telescope of Mr。 Lammie's； and
therewith watch its struggles till it broke loose； then follow it
careering up to the kite。 Away with each successive paper his
imagination would fly； and a sense of air； and height； and freedom
settled from his play into his very soul； a germ to sprout
hereafter； and enrich the forms of his aspirations。 And all his
after…memories of kite…flying were mingled with pictures of eastern
magnificence； for from the airy height of the dragon his eyes always
came down upon the enchanted pages of John Hewson's book。
Sometimes； again； he would throw down his book； and sitting up with
his back against the stake； lift his bonny leddy from his side； and
play as he had never played in Rothieden； playing to the dragon
aloft； to keep him strong in his soaring； and fierce in his battling
with the winds of heaven。 Then he fancied that the monster swooped
and swept in arcs； and swayed curving to and fro； in rhythmic
response to the music floating up through the wind。
What a full globated symbolism lay then around the heart of the boy
in his book； his violin； his kite！
CHAPTER XXII。
DR。 ANDERSON。
One afternoon； as they were sitting at their tea； a footstep in the
garden approached the house； and then a figure passed the window。
Mr。 Lammie started to his feet。
'Bless my sowl； Aggy！ that's Anderson！' he cried； and hurried to the
door。
His daughter followed。 The boys kept their seats。 A loud and
hearty salutation reached their ears； but the voice of the farmer
was all they heard。 Presently he returned； bringing with him the
tallest and slenderest man Robert had ever seen。 He was
considerably over