carried, announced the aforesaid fact. Wilson was alive to its
significance with a curious wakefulness.

"It's braw tidings ye bring the day, man," he stammered with evident
concern, and with an effort to hide his nervousness.

"Yes, the old man's dead," said the pedler, with an air of consequence
commensurate with his message. "I reckon," he added, "Oliver's son
Richard will be Protector now."

"A sairy carle, that same Richard," answered Wilson; "I wot th' young
Charles 'ul soon come by his ain, and then ilka ane amang us 'ul see a
bonnie war-day. We've playt at shinty lang eneugh. Braw news,
man--braw news that the corbie's deid."

Wilson had never before been heard to say so much or to speak so
vehemently. He got up from the table in his nervousness, and walked
aimlessly across the floor.

"Why are you poapan about," asked Angus, in amazement; "snowkin like a
pig at a sow?"

At this the sinister light in Wilson's eyes that had been held in
check hitherto seemed at once to flash out, and he turned hotly upon
his master, as though to retort sneer for sneer. But, checking
himself, he took up his bonnet and made for the door.

"Don't look at me like that," Angus called after him, "or, maybe I'll
clash the door in thy face."