CHAPTER VIII.

THE GATE.

The next day, after breakfast, Donal said to his host--

"Noo I maun pey ye for my shune, for gien I dinna pey at ance, I
canna tell hoo muckle to ca' my ain, an' what I hae to gang by till
I get mair."

"Na, na," returned the cobbler. "There's jist ae preejudice I hae
left concernin' the Sawbath-day; I firmly believe it a preejudice,
for siller 's the Lord's tu, but I canna win ower 't: I canna bring
mysel' to tak siller for ony wark dune upo' 't! Sae ye maun jist be
content to lat that flee stick to the Lord's wa'. Ye'll du as
muckle for me some day!"

"There's naething left me but to thank ye," said Donal. "There's the
ludgin' an' the boord, though!--I maun ken aboot them 'afore we gang
farther."

"They're nane o' my business," replied Andrew. "I lea' a' that to
the gudewife, an' I coonsel ye to du the same. She's a capital
manager, an' winna chairge ye ower muckle."

Donal could but yield, and presently went out for a stroll.

He wandered along the bank of the river till he came to the foot of
the hill on which stood the castle. Seeing a gate, he approached
it, and finding it open went in. A slow-ascending drive went