incidents that had passed that night in connection with the school-window
going on in his brain every moment of the time.

In the morning, do what he would--go upstairs, downstairs, out of doors,
speak of the wind and weather, or what not--he could not refrain from an
unceasing renewal, in imagination, of that interesting enactment. Tilted
on the edge of one foot he stood beside the fireplace, watching his
mother grilling rashers; but there was nothing in grilling, he thought,
unless the Vision grilled. The limp rasher hung down between the bars of
the gridiron like a cat in a child's arms; but there was nothing in
similes, unless She uttered them. He looked at the daylight shadows of a
yellow hue, dancing with the firelight shadows in blue on the whitewashed
chimney corner, but there was nothing in shadows. "Perhaps the new young
wom--sch--Miss Fancy Day will sing in church with us this morning," he
said.

The tranter looked a long time before he replied, "I fancy she will; and
yet I fancy she won't."

Dick implied that such a remark was rather to be tolerated than admired;
though deliberateness in speech was known to have, as a rule, more to do
with the machinery of the tranter's throat than with the matter
enunciated.

They made preparations for going to church as usual; Dick with extreme
alacrity, though he would not definitely consider why he was so
religious. His wonderful nicety in brushing and cleaning his best light
boots had features which elevated it to the rank of an art. Every
particle and speck of last week's mud was scraped and brushed from toe
and heel; new blacking from the packet was carefully mixed and made use