beneath. With a somewhat boisterous geniality he made instant friends
with all of his former class in the neighborhood. With Val and myself
he was not altogether at his ease. An abrupt awkwardness of manner,
which we put down to shyness, characterized our intercourse, which was
of rare occurrence.

He drove up to Mass on a Sunday, not in a motor, but in the ordinary
"machine" belonging to the inn--a kind of small wagonette, drawn by a
single horse--in which he always occupied the seat next the driver,
good-humoredly conveying any persons from that direction who might be
coming up our way, either to kirk or "chapel."

We heard glowing accounts of his kindness to Christian and the
children--of constant excursions to the town; of the purchase of
unlimited clothing for all the family, and of many costly presents,
such as watches for Christian and Tam, pretty trinkets for little
Kirsty, and toys for each of the bairns. He seemed to be never happy
out of their company; when they were not driving about the country,
visiting neighbors, or picnicking on the hills, they took their more
important meals at the inn. The two elder children seemed to have left
school for good; we heard later that Gowan had arranged matters with
the authorities, stating that he meant to take the family back to
America with him, or at any rate to find them a home elsewhere should
he make a lengthy stay in Scotland.

Things had gone on thus for three weeks before Val alluded to Gowan, or
anything connected with him. But his words showed me as soon as he
began to speak that he had been thinking much on the subject.

"I don't like this prolonged carnival of Gowan's," he remarked to me.