The school-room saw the latter some part of
each morning. For the rest of the day he might be almost anywhere with
Ian, at Glenfernie, or at Black Hill, or on the road between, or in
the country roundabout.
William Jardine, chancing to be one day at Black Hill, watched from
Mrs. Alison's parlor the two going down the avenue, the dogs at their
heels. "It's a fair David and Jonathan business!"
"David needed Jonathan, and Jonathan David."
"Had Jonathan lived, ma'am, and the two come to conflict about the
kingdom, what then, and where would have flown the friendship?"
"It would have flown on high, I suppose, and waited for them until
they had grown wings to mount to it."
"Oh," said the laird, "you're one I can follow only a little way!"
Ian and Alexander felt only that the earth about them was bright and
warm.
On a brown-and-gold day the two found themselves in the village of
Glenfernie. Ian had spent the night with Alexander--for some reason
there was school holiday--the two were now abroad early in the day.
The village sent its one street, its few poor lanes, up a bare
hillside to the church atop. Poor and rude enough, it had yet to-day
its cheerful air. High voices called, flaxen-haired children pottered
about, a mill-wheel creaked at the foot of the hill, iron clanged in
the smithy a little higher, the drovers' rough laughter burst from the
tavern midway, and at the height the kirk was seeing a wedding.
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