DR.ANDERSON AGAIN.
At the Post-office he procured the desired information at once.Dr.
Anderson lived in Union Street, towards the western end of it.
Away went Robert to find the house.That was easy.What a grand house of smooth granite and wide approach it was! The great door was opened by a man-servant, who looked at the country boy from head to foot.
'Is the doctor in?' asked Robert.
'Yes.'
'I wad like to see him.'
'Wha will I say wants him?'
'Say the laddie he saw at Bodyfauld.'
The man left Robert in the hall, which was spread with tiger and leopard skins, and had a bright fire burning in a large stove.
Returning presently, he led him through noiseless swing-doors covered with cloth into a large library.Never had Robert conceived such luxury.What with Turkey carpet, crimson curtains, easy-chairs, grandly-bound books and morocco-covered writing-table, it seemed the very ideal of comfort.But Robert liked the grandeur too much to be abashed by it.
'Sit ye doon there,' said the servant, 'and the doctor 'ill be wi'
ye in ae minute.'
He was hardly out of the room before a door opened in the middle of the books, and the doctor appeared in a long dressing-gown.He looked inquiringly at Robert for one moment, then made two long strides like a pair of eager compasses, holding out his hand.
'I'm Robert Faukner,' said the boy.'Ye'll min', maybe, doctor, 'at ye war verra kin' to me ance, and tellt me lots o' stories--at Bodyfauld, ye ken.'
'I'm very glad to see you, Robert,' said Dr.Anderson.'Of course Iremember you perfectly; but my servant did not bring your name, and I did not know but it might be the other boy--I forget his name.'
'Ye mean Shargar, sir.It's no him.'
'I can see that,' said the doctor, laughing, 'although you are altered.You have grown quite a man! I am very glad to see you,'
he repeated, shaking hands with him again.'When did you come to town?'
'I hae been at the grammer school i' the auld toon for the last three months,' said Robert.
'Three months!' exclaimed Dr.Anderson.'And never came to see me till now! That was too bad of you, Robert.'
'Weel, ye see, sir, I didna ken better.An' I had a heap to do, an'
a' for naething, efter a'.But gin I had kent 'at ye wad like to see me, I wad hae likit weel to come to ye.'
'I have been away most of the summer,' said the doctor; 'but I have been at home for the last month.You haven't had your dinner, have you?'
'Weel, I dinna exackly ken what to say, sir.Ye see, I wasna that sharp-set the day, sae I had jist a mou'fu' o' breid and cheese.
I'm turnin' hungry, noo, I maun confess.'
The doctor rang the bell.
'You must stop and dine with me.--Johnston,' he continued, as his servant entered, 'tell the cook that I have a gentleman to dinner with me to-day, and she must be liberal.'
'Guidsake, sir!' said Robert, 'dinna set the woman agen me.'
He had no intention of saying anything humorous, but Dr.Anderson laughed heartily.
'Come into my room till dinner-time,' he said, opening the door by which he had entered.
To Robert's astonishment, he found himself in a room bare as that of the poorest cottage.A small square window, small as the window in John Hewson's, looked out upon a garden neatly kept, but now 'having no adorning but cleanliness.' The place was just the benn end of a cottage.The walls were whitewashed, the ceiling was of bare boards, and the floor was sprinkled with a little white sand.The table and chairs were of common deal, white and clean, save that the former was spotted with ink.A greater contrast to the soft, large, richly-coloured room they had left could hardly be imagined.A few bookshelves on the wall were filled with old books.A fire blazed cheerily in the little grate.A bed with snow-white coverlet stood in a recess.
'This is the nicest room in the house, Robert,' said the doctor.
'When I was a student like you--'
Robert shook his head,'I'm nae student yet,' he said; but the doctor went on:
'I had the benn end of my father's cottage to study in, for he treated me like a stranger-gentleman when I came home from college.
