He was now as bitter of speech as he had formerly been conciliatory.

With Sim and his troubles, real and imaginary, he was not at all careful to exhibit sympathy.

"Weel, weel, ye must lie heids and thraws wi' poverty, like Jock an' his mither"; or, "If ye canna keep geese ye mun keep gezlins." Sim was in debt to his landlord, and over the idea of ejectment from his little dwelling the tailor would brood day and night.

Folks said he was going crazed about it.

None the less was Sim's distress as poignant as if the grounds for it had been more real.