The Half-Hearted | Page 2

John Buchan
eyes.
The old man arranged his seat comfortably, buttoned another button at
the neck of the coat, and then scrutinised the driver. "It's four
years--four years in October since I last cast eyes on you, Lewie, my
boy," he said. "I heard you were coming, so I refused a lift from
Haystounslacks and the minister. Haystounslacks was driving from
Gledsmuir, and unless the Lord protects him he will be in Avelin water
ere he gets home. Whisky and a Glenavelin road never agree, Lewie, as

I who have mended the fool's head a dozen times should know. But I
thought you would never come, and was prepared to ride in the next
baker's van." The Doctor spoke with the pure English and high northern
voice of an old school of professional men, whose tongue, save in
telling a story, knew not the vernacular, and yet in its pitch and accent
inevitably betrayed their birthplace. Precise in speech and dress,
uncommonly skilful, a mild humorist, and old in the world's wisdom,
he had gone down the evening way of life with the heart of a boy.
"I was delayed--I could not help it, though I was all afternoon at the
job," said the young man. "I've seen a dozen and more tenants and I
talked sheep and drains till I got out of my depth and was gravely
corrected. It's the most hospitable place on earth, this, but I thought it a
pity to waste a really fine hunger on the inevitable ham and eggs, so I
waited for dinner. Lord, I have an appetite! Come and dine, Doctor. I
am in solitary state just now, and long, wet evenings are dreary."
"I'm afraid I must excuse myself, Lewie," was the formal answer, with
just a touch of reproof. Dinner to Doctor Gracey was a serious
ceremony, and invitations should not be scattered rashly. "My
housekeeper's wrath is not to be trifled with, as you should know."
"I do," said the young man in a tone of decent melancholy. "She once
cuffed my ears the month I stayed with you for falling in the burn.
Does she beat you, Doctor?"
"Indeed, no," said the little old gentleman; "not as yet. But physically
she is my superior and I live in terror." Then abruptly, "For heaven's
sake, Lewie, mind the mare."
"It's all right," said the driver, as the dogcart swung neatly round an
ugly turn. "There's the mist going off the top of Etterick Law, and--why,
that's the end of the Dreichill?"
"It's the Dreichill, and beyond it is the Little Muneraw. Are you glad to
be home, Lewie?"
"Rather," said the young man gravely. "This is my own countryside,

and I fancy it's the last place a man forgets."
"I fancy so--with right-thinking people. By the way, I have much to
congratulate you on. We old fogies in this desert place have been often
seeing your name in the newspapers lately. You are a most experienced
traveller."
"Fair. But people made a great deal more of that than it deserved. It was
very simple, and I had every chance. Some day I will go out and do the
same thing again with no advantages, and if I come back you may
praise me then."
"Right, Lewie. A bare game and no chances is the rule of war. And
now, what will you do?"
"Settle down," said the young man with mock pathos, "which in my
case means settling up also. I suppose it is what you would call the
crucial moment in my life. I am going in for politics, as I always
intended, and for the rest I shall live a quiet country life at Etterick. I've
a wonderful talent for rusticity."
The Doctor shot an inquiring glance from beneath the flaps of his hat.
"I never can make up my mind about you, Lewie."
"I daresay not. It is long since I gave up trying to make up my mind
about myself."
"When you were a very small and very bad boy I made the usual
prophecy that you would make a spoon or spoil a horn. Later I declared
you would make the spoon. I still keep to that opinion, but I wish to
goodness I knew what shape your spoon would take."
"Ornamental, Doctor, some odd fancy spoon, but not useful. I feel an
inner lack of usefulness."
"Humph! Then things are serious, Lewie, and I, as your elder, should
give advice; but confound it, my dear, I cannot think what it should be.
Life has been too easy for you, a great deal too easy. You want a little

of the salt and iron of the world. You are too clever ever to be
conceited, and you are too good a fellow ever to be a fool, but
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