'Weel, ye see, sir, I didna ken better. An' I had a heap to do, an' a' for naething, efter a'. But gin I had kent 'at ye wad like to see me, I wad hae likit weel to come to ye.' 'I have been away most of the summer,' said the doctor; 'but I have been at home for the last month. You haven't had your dinner, have you?' 'Weel, I dinna exackly ken what to say, sir. Ye see, I wasna that sharp-set the day, sae I had jist a mou'fu' o' breid and cheese. I'm turnin' hungry, noo, I maun confess.' The doctor rang the bell. 'You must stop and dine with me.--Johnston,' he continued, as his servant entered, 'tell the cook that I have a gentleman to dinner with me to-day, and she must be liberal.' 'Guidsake, sir!' said Robert, 'dinna set the woman agen me.' He had no intention of saying anything humorous, but Dr. Anderson laughed heartily. 'Come into my room till dinner-time,' he said, opening the door by which he had entered. To Robert's astonishment, he found himself in a room bare as that of the poorest cottage. A small square window, small as the window in John Hewson's, looked out upon a garden neatly kept, but now 'having no adorning but cleanliness.' The place was just the benn end of a cottage. The walls were whitewashed, the ceiling was of bare boards, and the floor was sprinkled with a little white sand. The table and chairs were of common deal, white and clean, save that the former was spotted with ink. A greater contrast to the soft, large, richly-coloured room they had left could hardly be imagined. A few bookshelves on the wall were filled with old books. A fire blazed cheerily in the little grate. A bed with snow-white coverlet stood in a recess. 'This is the nicest room in the house, Robert,' said the doctor. 'When I was a student like you--' Robert shook his head, 'I'm nae student yet,' he said; but the doctor went on: 'I had the benn end of my father's cottage to study in, for he treated me like a stranger-gentleman when I came home from college. The father respected the son for whose advantage he was working like a slave from morning till night. My heart is sometimes sore with the gratitude I feel to him. Though he's been dead for thirty years--would you believe it, Robert?--well, I can't talk more about him now. I made this room as like my father's benn end as I could, and I am happier here than anywhere in the world.'