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was just what he wanted。
The economy of Dooble Sanny's abode was this： the outer door was
always left on the latch at night； because several families lived in
the house； the soutar's workshop opened from the passage； close to
the outer door； therefore its door was locked； but the key hung on a
nail just inside the soutar's bedroom。 All this Robert knew。
Arrived at the house； he lifted the latch； closed the door behind
him； took off his shoes once more； like a housebreaker； as indeed he
was； although a righteous one； and felt his way to and up the stair
to the bedroom。 There was a sound of snoring within。 The door was
a little ajar。 He reached the key and descended； his heart beating
more and more wildly as he approached the realization of his hopes。
Gently as he could he turned it in the lock。 In a moment more he
had his hands on the spot where the shoemaker always laid his
violin。 But his heart sank within him： there was no violin there。
A blank of dismay held him both motionless and thoughtless； nor had
he recovered his senses before he heard footsteps； which he well
knew； approaching in the street。 He slunk at once into a corner。
Elshender entered； feeling his way carefully； and muttering at his
wife。 He was tipsy； most likely； but that had never yet interfered
with the safety of his fiddle： Robert heard its faint echo as he
laid it gently down。 Nor was he too tipsy to lock the door behind
him； leaving Robert incarcerated amongst the old boots and leather
and rosin。
For one moment only did the boy's heart fail him。 The next he was
in action； for a happy thought had already struck him。 Hastily；
that he might forestall sleep in the brain of the soutar； he undid
his parcel； and after carefully enveloping his own violin in the
paper； took the old wife of the soutar； and proceeded to perform
upon her a trick which in a merry moment his master had taught him；
and which； not without some feeling of irreverence； he had
occasionally practised upon his own bonny lady。
The shoemaker's room was overhead； its thin floor of planks was the
ceiling of the workshop。 Ere Dooble Sanny was well laid by the side
of his sleeping wife； he heard a frightful sound from below； as of
some one tearing his beloved violin to pieces。 No sound of rending
coffin…planks or rising dead would have been so horrible in the ears
of the soutar。 He sprang from his bed with a haste that shook the
crazy tenement to its foundation。
The moment Robert heard that； he put the violin in its place； and
took his station by the door…cheek。 The soutar came tumbling down
the stair； and rushed at the door； but found that he had to go back
for the key。 When； with uncertain hand； he had opened at length； he
went straight to the nest of his treasure； and Robert slipping out
noiselessly； was in the next street before Dooble Sanny； having
found the fiddle uninjured； and not discovering the substitution；
had finished concluding that the whisky and his imagination had
played him a very discourteous trick between them； and retired once
more to bed。 And not till Robert had cut his foot badly with a
piece of glass； did he discover that he had left his shoes behind
him。 He tied it up with his handkerchief； and limped home the three
miles； too happy to think of consequences。
Before he had gone far； the moon floated up on the horizon； large；
and shaped like the broadside of a barrel。 She stared at him in
amazement to see him out at such a time of the night。 But he
grasped his violin and went on。 He had no fear now； even when he
passed again over the desolate moss； although he saw the stagnant
pools glimmering about him in the moonlight。 And ever after this he
had a fancy for roaming at night。 He reached home in safety； found
the door as he had left it； and ascended to his bed； triumphant in
his fiddle。
In the morning bloody prints were discovered on the stair； and
traced to the door of his room。 Miss Lammie entered in some alarm；
and found him fast asleep on his bed； still dressed； with a
brown…paper parcel in his arms； and one of his feet evidently enough
the source of the frightful stain。 She was too kind to wake him；
and inquiry was postponed till they met at breakfast； to which he
descended bare…footed； save for a handkerchief on the injured foot。
'Robert； my lad；' said Mr。 Lammie； kindly； 'hoo cam ye by that
bluidy fut？'
Robert began the story； and； guided by a few questions from his
host； at length told the tale of the violin from beginning to end；
omitting only his adventure in the factory。 Many a guffaw from Mr。
Lammie greeted its progress； and Miss Lammie laughed till the tears
rolled unheeded down her cheeks； especially when Shargar； emboldened
by the admiration Robert had awakened； imparted his private share in
the comedy； namely； the entombment of Boston in a fifth…fold state；
for the Lammies were none of the unco guid to be censorious upon
such exploits。 The whole business advanced the boys in favour at
Bodyfauld； and the entreaties of Robert that nothing； should reach
his grandmother's ears were entirely unnecessary。
After breakfast Miss Lammie dressed the wounded foot。 But what was
to be done for shoes； for Robert's Sunday pair had been left at
home？ Under ordinary circumstances it would have been no great
hardship to him to go barefoot for the rest of the autumn； but the
cut was rather a serious one。 So his feet were cased in a pair of
Mr。 Lammie's Sunday boots； which； from their size； made it so
difficult for him to get along； that he did not go far from the
doors； but revelled in the company of his violin in the corn…yard
amongst last year's ricks； in the barn； and in the hayloft； playing
all the tunes he knew； and trying over one or two more from a very
dirty old book of Scotch airs； which his teacher had lent him。
In the evening； as they sat together after supper； Mr。 Lammie said；
'Weel； Robert； hoo's the fiddle？'
'Fine； I thank ye； sir；' answered Robert。
'Lat's hear what ye can do wi' 't。'
Robert fetched the instrument and complied。
'That's no that ill；' remarked the farmer。 'But eh！ man； ye suld hae
heard yer gran'father han'le the bow。 That was something to
hearance in a body's life。 Ye wad hae jist thoucht the strings
had been drawn frae his ain inside； he kent them sae weel； and
han'led them sae fine。 He jist fan' （felt） them like wi' 's fingers
throu' the bow an' the horsehair an' a'； an' a' the time he was
drawin' the soun' like the sowl frae them； an' they jist did
onything 'at he likit。 Eh！ to hear him play the Flooers o' the
Forest wad hae garred ye greit。'
'Cud my father play？' asked Robert。
'Ay； weel eneuch for him。 He could do onything he likit to try；
better nor middlin'。 I never saw sic a man。 He played upo' the
bagpipes； an' the flute； an' the bugle； an' I kenna what a'； but
a'thegither they cam' na within sicht o' his father upo' the auld
fiddle。 Lat's hae a luik at her。'
He took the instrument in his hands reverently； turned it over and
over； and said；
'Ay； ay； it's the same auld mill； an' I wat it grun' （ground） bonny
meal。That sma' crater noo 'ill be worth a hunner poun'； I s'
warran'；' he added； as he restored it carefully into Robert's hands；
to whom it was honey and spice to hear his bonny lady paid her due
honours。 'Can ye play the Flooers o' the Forest； no？' he added yet
again。
'Ay can I；' answered Robert； with some pride； and laid the bow on
the violin； and played the air through without blundering a single
note。
'Weel； that's verra weel；' said Mr。 Lammie。 'But it's nae mair like
as yer gran'father played it； than gin there war twa sawyers at it；
ane at ilka lug o' the bow； wi' the fiddle atween them in a
saw…pit。'
Robert's heart sank within him； but Mr。 Lammie went on：
'To hear the bow croudin' （cooing）； and wailin'； an' greitin' ower
the strings； wad hae jist garred ye see the lands o' braid Scotlan'
wi' a' the lasses greitin' for the lads that lay upo' reid Flodden
side； lasses to cut； and lasses to gether； and lasses to bin'； and
lasses to stook； and lasses to lead； and no a lad amo' them a'。
It's just the murnin' o' women； doin' men's wark as weel 's their
ain； for the men that suld hae been there to du 't； and I s' warran'
ye； no a word to the orra （exceptional； over…all） lad that didna
gang wi' the lave （rest）。'
Robert had not hitherto understood itthis wail of a pastoral and
ploughing people over those who had left their side to return no
more from the field of battle。 But Mr。 Lammie's description of his
grandfather's rendering laid hold of his heart。
'I wad raither be grutten for nor kissed；' said he； simply。
'Haud ye to that； my lad；' returned Mr。 Lammie。 'Lat the lasses
greit for ye gin they like； but haud oot ower frae the kissin'。 I
wadna mell wi' 't。'
'Hoot； father；