me, in the first instance, to visit his tumbledown dwelling. It was a
quaint establishment. A moderately large garden surrounded it on three
sides, roughly fenced in from the woodland, its fence interwoven with
gorse branches to keep out rabbits. The varied supplies of vegetables
were evidence of Archie's industry, in spite of his rheumatism. It was
by the produce of this garden that the old man obtained in return the
oatmeal and milk which formed his staple food; for he could no longer
work for others.

The house itself was a picture! Its aged roof seemed to have bent
beneath the weight of years; for the ridge had sunk in the middle of
its mossy, grass-grown expanse, and threatened to fall upon its
occupant to the peril of his life. A small barrel served for a
chimney. One window possessed still two small panes of glass; the
other openings were filled in with bits of boarding, as was the whole
of the other window.

There was something quite uncanny about the silence of the place. The
monotonous ripple of the burn below seemed to intensify it. I stood in
hesitation for a moment or two before venturing to knock at the door.
When at last I had done so, shuffling footsteps sounded within, and
Archie opened the door; the same bland smile which I had noticed when I
first saw him appeared on his wrinkled face, and the faded blue eyes
lighted up.

"Come ben, sir; come ben!" he said hospitably. "Ye're kindly welcome,
tho' 'tis but a puir hoosachie for ane o' the gentry."

It was indeed a sorry place to live in. The roof was so unsound that,
as I learned later from Bell, it was difficult to find a dry spot for