I told him no, none.
"I thought not," said he, "and yet ye have a kind of gliff[1] of Mr. Alexander."
I said it seemed that Ebenezer was ill-seen in the country.
"Nae doubt," said the landlord. "He's a wicked auld man, and there's many would like to see him girning in the tow[2]. Jennet Clouston and mony mair that he has harried out of house and hame. And yet he was ance a fine young fellow, too. But that was before the sough[3] gaed abroad about Mr. Alexander, that was like the death of him."
"And what was it?" I asked.
"Ou, just that he had killed him," said the landlord. "Did ye never hear that?"
"And what would he kill him for?" said I.
"And what for, but just to get the place," said he.
"The place?" said I. "The Shaws?"
"Nae other place that I ken," said he.
"Ay, man?" said I. "Is that so? Was my—was Alexander the eldest son?"
"'Deed was he," said the landlord. "What else would he have killed him for?"
And with that he went away, as he had been impatient to do from the beginning.
Of course, I had guessed it a long while ago; but it is one thing to guess, another to know; and I sat stunned with my good fortune, and could scarce grow to believe that the same poor lad who had trudged in
