“Do ye think, Peter, they are in such need?” asked Walker, with a hint in his voice that was meant to convey he knew better.

“Lord, they canna be aught else!” decisively returned Peter.  “How can they be?  I ken for mysel’,” he went on, “that if it was me, I wad hae been in starvation lang syne.”

“Weel, wad ye believe me when I tell ye—­an’ it’s a fact—­they’re about the best-off family in this place, if ye only kent it.”

“What!” cried Peter in surprise, “the best-off family in the place!  Lord, I canna take that in!”

“Maybe no’,” said Walker, “but I ken, an’ ye’re no’ the first that’s been taken in by Nellie Sinclair.  If ye notice, she never tells any thin’ to anybody; but she lets ye carry the notion in your mind that she’s in great straits.  She’s a cute one, Nellie.”

“Weel, Nellie does keep hersel’ to hersel’,” admitted Peter.  “She’s no’ given to clashin’ and claverin’ about the doors like some o’ the rest o’ the women; but I canna’ for the life o’ me see where she can be onythin’ but ill aff at this time.”

“Weel, I ken when folk are bein’ imposed on,” said Walker, in a knowing tone, “an’ I tore down your notice this mornin’.  I didna want to see you mak’ a fool o’ yersels.  I ha’e been considerin’ for a while,” he went on, speaking quickly, “about puttin’ a stop to this collectin’ business at the office on pay Saturdays, for it just encourages some men to lie off work when there’s no’ very muckle wrong wi’ them; after they get the collection they soon start work again.  Ye had better no’ stand the morn, for I might as well begin at once and put a stop to it.”

Up till now Andrew Marshall had not spoken; he was a silent man, given more to thought than speech, but this was a way of doing things he did not like.

“But ye might let us tak’ the collection first, and then put up a notice yersel sayin’ that a’ collections have to be stopped.  It wad be best to gi’e the men notice.”

“No,” said Walker, “there’s to be nae mair collections taken.  I might as well stop it this time as wait.  So ye’ll no’ stand the morn.”

“Will I no’?” returned Andrew challengingly.  “How the hell do ye ken whether I will or no’?”

“I ken ye’ll no’,” replied Walker, with quiet menacing tones; “the ground at the office belongs to the company, and is private.  So ye can do it if ye like, but ye’ll be weel advised no’ to bother.”

“I don’t gi’e a damn,” cried Andrew explosively, “whether the ground is private or no’.  I’ll take that ‘gathering’ for Geordie Sinclair the morn, though ye ha’e a regiment o’ sodgers at the office.”

“Very well,” said Walker, as he departed, “if ye do, ye can look out.”