"To think o' that!" said he. "A strange nature of a man!" For all that,
he seemed singularly satisfied, but whether with himself, or me, or
with this conduct of my father's, was more than I could read. Certainly,
however, he seemed to be outgrowing that distaste, or ill-will, that he
had conceived at first against my person; for presently he jumped up,
came across the room behind me, and hit me a smack upon the shoulder.
"We'll agree fine yet!" he cried. "I'm just as glad I let you in. And
now come awa' to your bed."

To my surprise, he lit no lamp or candle, but set forth into the dark
passage, groped his way, breathing deeply, up a flight of steps, and
paused before a door, which he unlocked. I was close upon his heels,
having stumbled after him as best I might; and then he bade me go in,
for that was my chamber. I did as he bid, but paused after a few steps,
and begged a light to go to bed with.

"Hoot-toot!" said Uncle Ebenezer, "there's a fine moon."

"Neither moon nor star, sir, and pit-mirk,"* said I. "I cannae see the
bed."

* Dark as the pit.

"Hoot-toot, hoot-toot!" said he. "Lights in a house is a thing I dinnae
agree with. I'm unco feared of fires. Good-night to ye, Davie, my man."
And before I had time to add a further protest, he pulled the door to,
and I heard him lock me in from the outside.

I did not know whether to laugh or cry. The room was as cold as a well,