Now, great was the repute of Mr. Ogilvy, and Tommy gaped incredulous.  “He had no word of that at the time,” he said.

“No likely!  He says if the ministers was so doited as to think his loon did best, it wasna for him to conter them.”

“Man, Corp, you ca’me me aff my feet!  How do you ken this?”

Corp had promised not to tell, and he thought he did not tell, but Tommy was too clever for him.  Grizel, it appeared, had heard Mr. Ogilvy saying this strange thing to the doctor, and she burned to pass it on to Tommy, but she could not carry it to him herself, because—­Why was it?  Oh, yes, because she hated him.  So she made a messenger of Corp, and warned him against telling who had sent him with the news.

Half enlightened, Tommy began to strut again.  “You see there’s something in me for all they say,” he told Elspeth.  “Listen to this.  At the bursary examinations there was some English we had to turn into Latin, and it said, ’No man ever attained supreme eminence who worked for mere lucre; such efforts must ever be bounded by base mediocrity.  None shall climb high but he who climbs for love, for in truth where the heart is, there alone shall the treasure be found.’  Elspeth, it came ower me in a clink how true that was, and I sat saying it to myself, though I saw Gav Dishart and Willie Simpson and the rest beginning to put it into Latin at once, as little ta’en up wi’ the words as if they had been about auld Hannibal.  I aye kent, Elspeth, that I could never do much at the learning, but I didna see the reason till I read that.  Syne I kent that playing so real-like in the Den, and telling about my fits when it wasna me that had them but Corp, and mourning for Lewis Doig’s father, and writing letters for folk so grandly, and a’ my other queer ploys that ended in Cathro’s calling me Sentimental Tommy, was what my heart was in, and I saw in a jiffy that if thae things were work, I should soon rise to supreme eminence.”

“But they’re no,” said Elspeth, sadly.

“No,” he admitted, his face falling, “but, Elspeth, if I was to hear some day of work I could put my heart into as if it were a game!  I wouldna be laug in finding the treasure syne.  Oh, the blatter I would make!”

“I doubt there’s no sic work,” she answered, but he told her not to be so sure.  “I thought there wasna mysel’,” he said, “till now, but sure as death my heart was as ta’en up wi’ hunting for the right word as if it had been a game, and that was how the time slipped by so quick.  Yet it was paying work, for the way I did it made Mr. Ogilvy see I should have got the prize, and a’ body kens there’s more cleverness in him than in a cart-load o’ ministers.”

“But, but there are no more Hugh Blackadders to try for, Tommy?”

“That’s nothing, there maun be other work o’ the same kind.  Elspeth, cheer up, I tell you, I’ll find a wy!”

“But you didna ken yoursel’ that you should have got the Hugh Blackadder?”