The Right Stuff | Page 3

on to the top of this car, and presently found himself
confronted by a gentleman--splendid in appearance but of homely
speech--who waved bundles of tickets in his face, and inquired tersely--
"Penny or tippeny? or transfair?"
"I am seeking the Dalry Road," said Robert cautiously.
"Which end o't?"
"I couldna say."
"Ca' it a penny," said the conductor.
Robert, with the air of a man who has beaten down his opponent to the
lowest possible figure, produced the coin from his pocket. (It was just
as well that the man had not demanded a larger sum, for Robert's more
precious currency was concealed in a place only accessible to partial
disrobement.) The gorgeous man carelessly snapped a ticket out of one
of the bundles, and having first punched a hole in it with an ingenious
instrument that gave forth sounds of music, handed it to Robert in
exchange for the penny. He was a saturnine man, but he smiled a little
later when Robert, mindful of the fate of his railway-ticket at the last
station but one, airily attempted to give up his car-ticket in similar
fashion on alighting at the end of the journey.
The greater part of the next four days was spent by our friend in an

examination-room, into which we, more fortunate, need not attempt to
follow him. Robert diligently answered every question, writing at the
foot of each sheet of his neat manuscript, "More on the next page," in
case the examiner should be a careless fellow and imagine that Robert
had finished when he had not. Robert was not the man to leave
anything to chance, or to such unsafe abbreviations as P.T.O.
Outside the examination-room he devoted most of the time that he
could spare from preparation for the next paper to a systematic
exploration of Edinburgh. He did the thing as thoroughly as possible,
for he knew well that he might never spend four days in a large town
again.
He began by climbing the Calton Hill. He remained at the summit quite
a long time, constructing a rough bird's-eye plan of the streets and
buildings below him; and having descended to earth, proceeded on a
series of voyages of discovery.
He regarded the exterior of Parliament House with intense interest, for
he was a debater by instinct and upbringing. St Giles' he passed by
without enthusiasm--he was a member of the Free Kirk--and St Mary's
Cathedral struck him as being unduly magnificent to be the property of
such a small and pernicious sect as the Episcopalians. The Post Office
and other great buildings struck him dumb; and he hastened past the
theatres with averted eyes, for he had it upon unimpeachable authority
that the devil resided there.
He knew no one in Edinburgh save Elspeth M'Kerrow. However, he
made another friend--to wit, one Hector MacPherson, a gigantic
Highland policeman, who controlled the traffic with incredible skill at a
place where several ways met. The said Hector stood beneath the
shadow of a great lamp-post, and whenever a vehicle drove past one
side of him, Hector relentlessly called it back and made it go on the
other. Their acquaintance began with the entire effacement of Robert's
features by the palm of Hector's hand, which was suddenly extended
across the thoroughfare for traffic-regulating purposes, with the result
that Robert, who was plunged in thought at the time, ran his nose right
into the centre of it. The ejaculation to which each gave vent at the

moment of impact revealed to both that they were from the same part of
the country, and thereafter Hector MacPherson became Robert's
adviser-in-chief throughout his stay in Edinburgh. Indeed, Robert used
Hector as the starting-point for all his excursions, and whenever he
became hopelessly lost in the wilds of the Grassmarket or the purlieus
of Morningside, he used to ask his way back to his mentor's pitch and
make a fresh start. We shall hear of Hector again.
The foolhardy feat of entering a shop Robert did not attempt until his
very last day in Edinburgh, and then only because he was absolutely
compelled to do so by the necessity of executing a commission for his
sister Margaret--the purchase of half a yard of ribbon.
It is true that the same ribbon could have been obtained at home from
Malcolm M'Whiston or a travelling packman, but Margaret was
determined to have it from Edinburgh; and she was particularly
emphatic in her injunctions to Robert to see that the folk in the shop
stuck a label on the parcel, "with their name printed on, and a picture of
the shop and a'."
On Saturday morning, then, Robert approached the establishment
which he had chosen for the purpose. After a careful reconnaissance he
discovered that it possessed several doors. Here was a