He drove up to Mass on a Sunday, not in a motor, but in the ordinary “machine” belonging to the inn—­a kind of small wagonette, drawn by a single horse—­in which he always occupied the seat next the driver, good-humoredly conveying any persons from that direction who might be coming up our way, either to kirk or “chapel.”

We heard glowing accounts of his kindness to Christian and the children—­of constant excursions to the town; of the purchase of unlimited clothing for all the family, and of many costly presents, such as watches for Christian and Tam, pretty trinkets for little Kirsty, and toys for each of the bairns.  He seemed to be never happy out of their company; when they were not driving about the country, visiting neighbors, or picnicking on the hills, they took their more important meals at the inn.  The two elder children seemed to have left school for good; we heard later that Gowan had arranged matters with the authorities, stating that he meant to take the family back to America with him, or at any rate to find them a home elsewhere should he make a lengthy stay in Scotland.

Things had gone on thus for three weeks before Val alluded to Gowan, or anything connected with him.  But his words showed me as soon as he began to speak that he had been thinking much on the subject.

“I don’t like this prolonged carnival of Gowan’s,” he remarked to me.  “It’s doing no good.  I hear of unlimited drinks at Larrigie day after day for all who choose to ask.  Many of our young fellows are getting into the habit of dropping in there of nights and listening to the man’s stories of life ‘t’other side.’  He seems capable of standing a good deal of liquor himself, as he is never really overcome—­only more coarse and noisy, the more he takes.  I have had complaints from several of the fathers of families about the harm he is doing.”

“That’s rather bad!” was my answer.  “But what about the Logans?  I hear that he means to take them off with him, and he doesn’t appear to be a desirable guardian for those children, by all accounts.”

“It is that I’m most anxious about,” said Val.

And thereupon he became communicative.  Things were really worse than I had thought.  Gowan, it is true, still came to Mass, but he was fond of boasting to his boon companions that they had got beyond “all that nonsense in the States!” He had certainly, on his own showing, ceased to be a practical Catholic for years, and it was probable that his attendance at Mass and contribution of half a sovereign to the offertory every Sunday was merely the result of a desire to stand well in the estimation of the more staid members of the community, and might be classed with the free drinks and other signs of friendliness to the district.  The character of the man rendered Val naturally anxious about the future of Christian Logan and her children, if they were to depend upon him for support in a strange land among strangers.