"Go to bed," snapped Herries, rising.

"Wull ye nae stap, and hae a crack?"

"No! I'll see you in the morning."

"Man, I'll be gone early. It's London I'm bound for. Joost sae, tae see an eeditor aboot an article on the modest daisy."

The young man shrugged his shoulders again. On another occasion he would have been amused at Gowrie's impudence, with his odd changes from Scotch to English. But the heart was out of him, and meeting with an old friend, even so fallen a one as Mr. Gowrie, he could not help breaking out with his troubles. An overcharged heart will speak, however reticent may be the nature of its possessor, and after fiddling with the door-handle for a few moments, Herries burst out----

"I'm a Jonah, Mr. Gowrie," he cried, almost savagely. "I swear that I have done all that a man could do, to earn an honest living, but everything has gone wrong with me. I am sober, honest, industrious and,--as you said,--clever----"

"Aye," said the sage, "I'll bear testimony to that. Nae mair capable laddie ever passed through my varra capable hands."

"Then why am I so unfortunate?" demanded the miserable young man, looking up to the ceiling. "I am cursed in some way. Whatever I take up, fails. I try and try and try again. I foresee all chances, and work desperately. Yet again and again, I fail."

Facing Gowrie, with clenched hands and desperate eyes, Herries neither saw nor heard the door into the back parts of the house, open and shut suddenly. It was just as though someone, hearing the raised voice, had peered out, and then, after a glance, had retired hastily. Gowrie looked out of the tail of his eye, but saw nothing, and shook his head at his unfortunate pupil.

"It's a weary world," he said with drunken seriousness.

"The world is all right," cried Herries, "it is the infernal folk who live in it that make me hate life. Oh," he dashed his hands across his eyes. "I could shame my manhood and weep, when I think of my sorrow"--here he became aware that Elspeth was in the room gazing at him with pitying eyes. A feeling of pride made him close his mouth, and with an abrupt gesture of despair, he left the room at a run. The girl followed to show him his sleeping-apartment. Old Gowrie remained, and cried to Mrs. Narby for a third glass of gin.

"Aye, aye," 

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