“Nothing!  What for did you cry out like that, then?”

“’Twas one of my fishhooks stuck in his leg, sir,” I explained, extracting the offending hook from Rosson’s trousers, and putting it back with others into my pocket.

“Give me the hooks!” demanded Mr. Drever, holding out his hand to receive them.  “I don’t know what can possess you, bringing such things to school.”

Then before putting the hooks away in his desk, he examined them with a knowing eye, and I heard him murmur, “Dear me, dear me!  You lads beat everything.  I cannot think where ye get such good hooks from.”

The lesson was now changed.  We all took our seats at the desks for arithmetic, and throughout the morning there were few interruptions further than the necessary disturbance caused by the changing of places as one or another of us was distinguished for reward.

Chapter III.  A Half Holiday.

You will have gathered from Andrew Drever’s remark about the fishhooks that he was something of a fisher.  He was a fisher; but he was also a naturalist, and he varied the hard duties of the school by making frequent excursions across the hills in search of objects for his favourite study.  In addition to the maps and diagrams that hung on the whitewashed walls of the schoolroom there were many cases containing stuffed birds, such as guillemots, terns, owls, and ouzels; and specimens of the small quadrupeds of the locality, including a weasel and a fine pair of otters.  All of these specimens had been prepared and stuffed by himself, and upon a side table by the window he kept a collection of curious stones and old coins that he had found on his wanderings.

Andrew’s heart was in both of his occupations.  He loved his birds and his curiosities, and I think he loved his pupils.  Often, as he sat on his high stool behind his desk, with a severity in his features which his position seemed to demand, I have seen his brown eyes soften as they looked round the circle of faces, and I have known that he had some affection for each one of us.  Out of school hours he took great interest in our pursuits, giving to the girls advice in the arrangement of colour in their needlework, and to the boys many a valuable hint for the hooking of trout.  He knew no distinctions of rank or social position.  A laird’s son was treated by him with the same dignity or kindness that was shown to the son of a poor kelp burner; and the coveted seat at the head of the class was as often occupied by a poor fisherman’s lad as by the better dressed, but not better educated, son of the Inspector of Fisheries, or the bright little daughter of so great a man as Lloyd’s agent.

Towards the close of morning school, Peter, the jackdaw, announced by the fluttering of his wings and his chattering that a stranger was coming to the door, and very soon Mr. Duke, one of the bailies of the town, entered the school.  We had learnt to expect something good to come of the bailie’s visits, and this occasion was no exception.