“There's juist ae thing Domsie cares aboot, an' it's naither meat nor drink, nor siller snuffboxes; it's his college laddies, gettin' them forrit and payin' their fees, an' haudin' them in life till they're dune.” By this time the kirkyard was listening as one man and with both ears, for it was plain Jamie had an idea. “Ca' on, Jamie,” encouraged Drumsheugh, who had as yet given no sign. “He's hed his ain time, hes Domsie, gaein' roond Muirtown market collectin' the bank notes for his scholars an' seein' they hed their bukes' A'm no denyin* that Domsie was greedy in his ain way, and gin the Glen cud gither eneuch money tae foond a bit bursary for puir scholars o' Drumtochty, a wudna say but that he micht be pleased.” The matter was left in Drumsheugh's hands, with Doctor Davidson as consulting counsel, and he would tell nothing for a fortnight. Then they saw in the Dunleith train that he was charged with tidings, and a meeting was held at the junction, Peter being forbidden to mention time, and commanded to take the outcasts of Kildrummie up by themselves if they couldn't wait. “The first man a mentioned it tae was oor Saunders, an' he said naethin' at the time, but he cam up in the forenicht, and slippit a note in ma hand. 'He didna pit mickle intae me,' says he, 'but he's daein' fine wi' the bairns. Neebur, a kent that meenut that the Glen wud dae something handsome. “Next morning a gied a cry at the Free Manse, and telt Maister Carmichael. If he was na oot o' the room like a man possessed, and he gied me every penny he hed in the hoose, ten pund five shilling. And at the gate he waved his hat in the air, and cries, 'The Jamieson Bursary.' “It was ae note from one man an' three frae his neebur, an' twa shilling frae the cottars. Abody has dune his pairt, one hundred an' ninety-two pounds frae the Glen. “We sent a bit letter tae the Drumtochty fouk in the Sooth, and they've sent fifty-eight pounds, wi' mony good wishes, an' what na think ye hev the auld scholars sent? A hundred and forty pounds. An' last nicht we hed three hundred and ninety pounds.” “Ma word!” was all Hillocks found himself able to comment; “that wad get a richt snuffbox.” “Ye hev mair tae tell, Drumsheugh,” said Jamie; “feenish the list” “Ye're a wratch, Jamie,” responded the treasurer of the Jamieson Bursary Fund. “Hoo did ye ken aboot the Doctor? says he tae me laist nicht, 'Here's a letter to Lord Kilspindie. Give it to him at Muirtown, and I would not say but he might make the sum up to four hundred.' So a saw his lordship in his room, and he wrote a cheque and pit in a letter, an' says he, 'Open that in the Bank, Drumsheugh,' an' a did. It was for ten pounds, wi' a hundred on tae't, making up £500. Twenty pund a year tae a Drumtochty scholar for ever. Jamie,” said Drumsheugh, “ye've gotten yir bursary.”