"You know my father's name?"

"It would be strange if I didnae," he returned, "for he was my born

brother; and little as ye seem to like either me or my house, or my good

parritch, I'm your born uncle, Davie, my man, and you my born nephew. So

give us the letter, and sit down and fill your kyte."

If I had been some years younger, what with shame, weariness, and

disappointment, I believe I had burst into tears. As it was, I could

find no words, neither black nor white, but handed him the letter, and

sat down to the porridge with as little appetite for meat as ever a

young man had.

Meanwhile, my uncle, stooping over the fire, turned the letter over and

over in his hands.

"Do ye ken what's in it?" he asked, suddenly.

"You see for yourself, sir," said I, "that the seal has not been

broken."

"Ay," said he, "but what brought you here?"

"To give the letter," said I.

"No," says he, cunningly, "but ye'll have had some hopes, nae doubt?"

"I confess, sir," said I, "when I was told that I had kinsfolk

well-to-do, I did indeed indulge the hope that they might help me in

my life. But I am no beggar; I look for no favours at your hands, and

I want none that are not freely given. For as poor as I appear, I have

friends of my own that will be blithe to help me."

"Hoot-toot!" said Uncle Ebenezer, "dinnae fly up in the snuff at me.

We'll agree fine yet. And, Davie, my man, if you're done with that bit

parritch, I could just take a sup of it myself. Ay," he continued,

as soon as he had ousted me from the stool and spoon, "they're fine,

halesome food--they're grand food, parritch." He murmured a little grace

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