is better to wear out than to rust out. It is bad to let choice things
become easily familiar; for, you know, familiarity is apt to beget a
proverbial offspring."

The young man had listened attentively, but suddenly he leaned from the
seat and with a dexterous twitch of his whip curled it round the leg of
a boy of sixteen who stood before a cottage.

"Hullo, Jock," he cried. "When are you coming up to see me? Bring your
brother some day and we'll go and fish the Midburn." The urchin pulled
off a ragged cap and grinned with pleasure.

"That's the boy you pulled out of the Avelin?" asked the Doctor. "I had
heard of that performance. It was a good introduction to your
home-coming."

"It was nothing," said the young man, flushing slightly. "I was
crossing the ford and the stream was up a bit. The boy was fishing,
wading pretty deep, and in turning round to stare at me he slipped and
was carried down. I merely rode my horse out and collared him. There
was no danger."

"And the Black Linn just below," said the Doctor, incredulously. "You
have got the usual modesty of the brave man, Lewie."

"It was a very small thing. My horse knew its business--that was all."
And he flicked nervously with the whip.

A grey house among trees rose on the left with a quaint gateway of
unhewn stone. The dogcart pulled up, and the Doctor scrambled down and