the　gathered　harvest。
  He　tried　the　air　once　over　in　the　dark；　and　then　carried　his　violin
  down　to　the　room　where　Mr。　and　Miss　Lammie　sat。
  'I　think　I　can　play　't　noo；　Mr。　Lammie；'　he　said　abruptly。
  'Play　what；　callant？'　asked　his　host。
  'The　Flooers　o'　the　Forest。'
  'Play　awa'　than。'
  And　Robert　playednot　so　well　as　he　had　hoped。　　I　dare　say　it　was　a
  humble　enough　performance；　but　he　gave　something　at　least　of　the
  expression　Mr。　Lammie　desired。　　For；　the　moment　the　tune　was　over；
  he　exclaimed；
  'Weel　dune；　Robert　man！　ye'll　be　a　fiddler　some　day　yet！'
  And　Robert　was　well　satisfied　with　the　praise。
  'I　wish　yer　mother　had　been　alive；'　the　farmer　went　on。　'She　wad　hae
  been　rael　prood　to　hear　ye　play　like　that。　　Eh！　she　likit　the　fiddle
  weel。　　And　she　culd　play　bonny　upo'　the　piana　hersel'。　　It　was
  something　to　hear　the　twa　o'　them　playing　thegither；　him　on　the
  fiddlethat　verra　fiddle　o'　's　father's　'at　ye　hae　i'　yer　han'and
  her　on　the　piana。　　Eh！　but　she　was　a　bonnie　wuman　as　ever　I　saw；　an'
  that　quaiet！　　It's　my　belief　she　never　thocht　aboot　her　ain　beowty
  frae　week's　en'　to　week's　en'；　and　that's　no　sayin'　littleis　't；
  Aggy？'
  'I　never　preten't　ony　richt　to　think　aboot　sic；'　returned　Miss
  Lammie；　with　a　mild　indignation。
  'That's　richt；　lass。　　Od；　ye're　aye　i'　the　richtthough　I　say　't
  'at　sudna。'
  Miss　Lammie　must　indeed　have　been　good…natured；　to　answer　only　with
  a　genuine　laugh。　　Shargar　looked　explosive　with　anger。　　But　Robert
  would　fain　hear　more　of　his　mother。
  'What　was　my　mother　like；　Mr。　Lammie？'　he　asked。
  'Eh；　my　man！　ye　suld　hae　seen　her　upon　a　bonnie　bay　mere　that　yer
  father　gae　her。　　Faith！　she　sat　as　straught　as　a　rash；　wi'　jist　a
  hing　i'　the　heid　o'　her；　like　the　heid　o'　a　halm　o'　wild　aits。'
  'My　father　wasna　that　ill　till　her　than？'　suggested　Robert。
  'Wha　ever　daured　say　sic　a　thing？'　returned　Mr。　Lammie；　but　in　a
  tone　so　far　from　satisfactory　to　Robert；　that　he　inquired　no　more　in
  that　direction。
  I　need　hardly　say　that　from　that　night　Robert　was　more　than　ever
  diligent　with　his　violin。
  CHAPTER　XXI。
  THE　DRAGON。
  Next　day；　his　foot　was　so　much　better　that　he　sent　Shargar　to
  Rothieden　to　buy　the　string；　taking　with　him　Robert's　school…bag；　in
  which　to　carry　off　his　Sunday　shoes；　for　as　to　those　left　at　Dooble
  Sanny's；　they　judged　it　unsafe　to　go　in　quest　of　them：　the　soutar
  could　hardly　be　in　a　humour　fit　to　be　intruded　upon。
  Having　procured　the　string；　Shargar　went　to　Mrs。　Falconer's。
  Anxious　not　to　encounter　her；　but；　if　possible；　to　bag　the　boots
  quietly；　he　opened　the　door；　peeped　in；　and　seeing　no　one；　made　his
  way　towards　the　kitchen。　　He　was　arrested；　however；　as　he　crossed
  the　passage　by　the　voice　of　Mrs。　Falconer　calling；　'Wha's　that？'
  There　she　was　at　the　parlour　door。　　It　paralyzed　him。　　His　first
  impulse　was　to　make　a　rush　and　escape。　　But　the　bootshe　could　not
  go　without　at　least　an　attempt　upon　them。　　So　he　turned　and　faced
  her　with　inward　trembling。
  'Wha's　that？'　repeated　the　old　lady；　regarding　him　fixedly。　'Ow；
  it's　you！　　What　duv　ye　want？　　Ye　camna　to　see　me；　I'm　thinkin'！
  What　hae　ye　i'　that　bag？'
  'I　cam　to　coff　（buy）　twine　for　the　draigon；'　answered　Shargar。
  'Ye　had　twine　eneuch　afore！'
  'It　bruik。　　It　wasna　strang　eneuch。'
  'Whaur　got　ye　the　siller　to　buy　mair？　　Lat's　see　't？'
  Shargar　took　the　string　from　the　bag。
  'Sic　a　sicht　o'　twine！　　What　paid　ye　for　't？'
  'A　shillin'。'
  'Whaur　got　ye　the　shillin'？'
  'Mr。　Lammie　gae　't　to　Robert。'
  'I　winna　hae　ye　tak　siller　frae　naebody。　　It's　ill　mainners。　　Hae！'
  said　the　old　lady；　putting　her　hand　in　her　pocket；　and　taking　out　a
  shilling。　'Hae；'　she　said。　'Gie　Mr。　Lammie　back　his　shillin'；　an'
  tell　'im　'at　I　wadna　hae　ye　learn　sic　ill　customs　as　tak　siller。
  It's　eneuch　to　gang　sornin'　upon　'im　（exacting　free　quarters）　as　ye
  du；　ohn　beggit　for　siller。　　Are　they　a'　weel？'
  'Ay；　brawly；'　answered　Shargar；　putting　the　shilling　in　his　pocket。
  In　another　moment　Shargar　had；　without　a　word　of　adieu；　embezzled
  the　shoes；　and　escaped　from　the　house　without　seeing　Betty。　　He　went
  straight　to　the　shop　he　had　just　left；　and　bought　another　shilling's
  worth　of　string。
  When　he　got　home；　he　concealed　nothing　from　Robert；　whom　he　found
  seated　in　the　barn；　with　his　fiddle；　waiting　his　return。
  Robert　started　to　his　feet。　　He　could　appropriate　his　grandfather's
  violin；　to　which；　possibly；　he　might　have　shown　as　good　a　right　as
  his　grandmothercertainly　his　grandfather　would　have　accorded　it
  himbut　her　money　was　sacred。
  'Shargar；　ye　vratch！'　he　cried；　'fess　that　shillin'　here　direckly。
  Tak　the　twine　wi'　ye；　and　gar　them　gie　ye　back　the　shillin'。'
  'They　winna　brak　the　bargain；'　cried　Shargar；　beginning　almost　to
  whimper；　for　a　savoury　smell　of　dinner　was　coming　across　the　yard。
  'Tell　them　it's　stown　siller；　and　they'll　be　in　het　watter　aboot　it
  gin　they　dinna　gie　ye　't　back。'
  'I　maun　hae　my　denner　first；'　remonstrated　Shargar。
  But　the　spirit　of　his　grandmother　was　strong　in　Robert；　and　in　a
  matter　of　rectitude　there　must　be　no　temporizing。　　Therein　he　could
  be　as　tyrannical　as　the　old　lady　herself。
  'De'il　a　bite　or　a　sup　s'　gang　ower　your　thrapple　till　I　see　that
  shillin'。'
  There　was　no　help　for　it。　　Six　hungry　miles　must　be　trudged　by
  Shargar　ere　he　got　a　morsel　to　eat。　　Two　hours　and　a　half　passed
  before　he　reappeared。　　But　he　brought　the　shilling。　　As　to　how　he
  recovered　it；　Robert　questioned　him　in　vain。　　Shargar；　in　his　turn；
  was　obstinate。
  'She's　a　some　camstairy　（unmanageable）　wife；　that　grannie　o'　yours；'
  said　Mr。　Lammie；　when　Robert　returned　the　shilling　with　Mrs。
  Falconer's　message；　'but　I　reckon　I　maun　pit　it　i'　my　pooch；　for　she
  will　hae　her　ain　gait；　an'　I　dinna　want　to　strive　wi'　her。　　But　gin
  ony　o'　ye　be　in　want　o'　a　shillin'　ony　day；　lads；　as　lang　's　I'm
  abune　the　yirdthis　ane　'll　be　grown　twa；　or　maybe　mair；　'gen　that
  time。'
  So　saying；　the　farmer　put　the　shilling　into　his　pocket；　and　buttoned
  it　up。
  The　dragon　flew　splendidly　now；　and　its　strength　was　mighty。　　It　was
  Robert's　custom　to　drive　a　stake　in　the　ground；　slanting　against　the
  wind；　and　thereby　tether　the　animal；　as　if　it　were　up　there　grazing
  in　its　own　natural　region。　　Then　he　would　lie　down　by　the　stake　and
  read　The　Arabian　Nights；　every　now　and　then　casting　a　glance　upward
  at　the　creature　alone　in　the　waste　air；　yet　all　in　his　power　by　the
  string　at　his　side。　　Somehow　the　high…flown　dragon　was　a　bond
  between　him　and　the　blue；　he　seemed　nearer　to　the　sky　while　it　flew；
  or　at　least　the　heaven　seemed　less　far　away　and　inaccessible。　　While
  he　lay　there　gazing；　all　at　once　he　would　find　that　his　soul　was　up
  with　the　dragon；　feeling　as　it　felt；　tossing　about　with　it　in　the
  torrents　of　the　air。　　Out　at　his　eyes　it　would　go；　traverse　the　dim
  stairless　space；　and　sport　with　the　wind…blown　monster。　　Sometimes；
  to　aid　his　aspiration；　he　would　take　a　bit　of　paper；　make　a　hole　in
  it；　pass　the　end　of　the　string　through　the　hole；　and　send　the
  messenger　scudding　along　the　line　athwart　the　depth　of　the　wind。　　If
  it　stuck　by　the　way；　he　would　get　a　telescope　of　Mr。　Lammie's；　and
  therewith　watch　its　struggles　till　it　broke　loose；　then　follow　it
  careering　up　to　the　kite。　　Away　with　each　successive　paper　his
  imagination　would　fly；　and　a　sense　of　air；　and　height；　and　freedom
  settled　from　his　play　into　his　very　soul；　a　germ　to　sprout
  hereafter；　and　enrich　the　forms　of　his　aspirations。　　And　all　his
  after…memories　of　kite…flying　were　mingled　with　pictures　of　eastern
  magnificence；　for　from　the　airy　height　of　the　dragon　his　eyes　always
  came　down　upon　the　enchanted　pages　of　John　Hewson's　book。
  Sometimes；　again；　he　would　throw　down　his　book；　and　sitting　up　with
  his　back　against　the　stake；　lift　his　bonny　leddy　from　his　side；　and
  play　as　he　had　never　played　in　Rothieden；　playing　to　the　dragon
  aloft；　to　keep　him　strong　in　his　soaring；　and　fierce　in　his　battling
  with　the　winds　of　heaven。　　Then　he　fancied　that　the　monster　swooped
  and　swept　in　arcs；　and　swayed　curving　to　and　fro；　in　rhythmic
  response　to　the　music　floating　up　through　the　wind。
  What　a　full　globated　symbolism　lay　then　around　the　heart　of　the　boy
  in　his　book；　his　violin；　his　kite！
  CHAPTER　XXII。
  DR。　　ANDERSON。
  One　afternoon；　as　they　were　sitting　at　their　tea；　a　footstep　in　the
  garden　approached　the　house；　and　then　a　figure　passed　the　window。
  Mr。　Lammie　started　to　his　feet。
  'Bless　my　sowl；　Aggy！　that's　Anderson！'　he　cried；　and　hurried　to　the
  door。
  His　daughter　followed。　　The　boys　kept　their　seats。　　A　loud　and
  hearty　salutation　reached　their　ears；　but　the　voice　of　the　farmer
  was　all　they　heard。　　Presently　he　returned；　bringing　with　him　the
  tallest　and　slenderest　man　Robert　had　ever　seen。　　He　was
  considerably　over