I doobt that's her fit upo' the stair a'ready.' Robert crept to the door, and Shargar sat staring with horror, his eyes looking from the gloom of the bed like those of a half-strangled dog.
But it was a false alarm, as Robert presently returned to announce.
'Gin ever ye sae muckle as mention whusky again, no to say drink ae drap o' 't, you and me pairt company, and that I tell you, Shargar,' said he, emphatically.
'I'll never luik at it; I'll never mint at dreamin' o' 't,' answered Shargar, coweringly.

'Gin she pits 't intil my moo', I'll spit it oot.
But gin ye strive wi' me, Bob, I'll cut my throat--I will; an' that'll be seen and heard tell o'.' All this time, save during the alarm of Mrs.Falconer's approach, when he sat with a mouthful of hot potato, unable to move his jaws for terror, and the remnant arrested half-way in its progress from his mouth after the bite--all this time Shargar had been devouring the provisions Robert had brought him, as if he had not seen food that day.

As soon as they were finished, he begged for a drink of water, which Robert managed to procure for him.

He then left him for the night, for his longer absence might have brought his grandmother after him, who had perhaps only too good reasons for being doubtful, if not suspicious, about boys in general, though certainly not about Robert in particular.

He carried with him his books from the other garret-room where he kept them, and sat down at the table by his grandmother, preparing his Latin and geography by her lamp, while she sat knitting a white stocking with fingers as rapid as thought, never looking at her work, but staring into the fire, and seeing visions there which Robert would have given everything he could call his own to see, and then would have given his life to blot out of the world if he had seen them.