"I'm not going to Glasgow," I said, for it was not in my heart to go into the one house with that woman. I could not explain my dislike for her company, but I preferred the cold night and the snow to the bed and bite which she promised me. "Well, you can take the couple o' shillin's anyway," she persisted; "they'll do you no ill." "I don't want your money," I said for the third time. "'Twas earned decently, anyway," she said. "I canna see why you'll no take it. Will you bid me good-bye, Dermod?" She put out her hand to me as she spoke, and I pressed it warmly, for in truth I was glad to get rid of her. Suddenly she reached forward and kissed me on the cheek; then hurried away, leaving me alone on the roadway. The woman's kiss disconcerted me, and I suddenly felt ashamed of my coldness towards her. She was kind-hearted and considerate, and I was a brute. I looked after her. When she would turn round I would call to her to stop, and I would go with her to Glasgow. The thought of spending the night homeless on the bleak road frightened me. She reached the corner of the road and went out of my sight without ever turning round. I looked at the two coppers which I possessed, and wondered why I hadn't taken the money which Gourock Ellen offered me. I also wondered why she had kissed me. CHAPTER XIV PADDING IT "A nail in the sole of your bluchers jagging your foot like a pin, And every step of the journey driving it further in; Then out on the great long roadway, you'll find when you go abroad, The nearer you go to nature, the further you go from God." --_A Song of the Dead End_. Out on tramp, homeless in a strange country, with twopence in my pocket! The darkness lay around me and the snow was white on the ground. Whenever I took my hands out of my pockets the chill air nipped them like pincers. One knee was out through my trousers, and my boots were leaking. The snow melted as it came through the torn uppers, and I could hear the water gurgling between my toes as I walked. When I passed a lighted house I felt a hunger that was not of the belly kind. I came to the village of Bishopton, and went into a little shop, where I asked for a pennyworth of biscuits. The man weighed them in scales that shone like gold, and broke one in halves to make the exact weight. "There's nothin' like fair measure, laddie," he said. "Is there any chance of a man getting a job about this district?" I asked. "What man?" said the shopkeeper. "Me," I said. "Get out, ye scamp!" roared the man. "It would be better for you to go to bed instead of tryin' to take a rise out of yer betters." "You are an old pig!" I shouted at the man, for I did not like his way of speaking, and disappeared into the darkness. I ate the biscuits, but felt hungrier after my meal than I was before it.