All the children had gone into school. The street was lonely in the sudden stillness. The joiner slanted across the road, brushing shavings and sawdust from his white apron. There was no other sign of life in the sunshine. Only from the smiddy, far away, came at times the tink of an anvil. John crept on up the street, keeping close to the wall. It seemed unnatural being there at that hour; everything had a quiet, unfamiliar look. The white walls of the houses reproached the truant with their silent faces. A strong smell of wallflowers oozed through the hot air. John thought it a lonely smell, and ran to get away. "Johnny dear, what's wrong wi' ye?" cried his mother, when he stole in through the scullery at last. "Are ye ill, dear?" "I wanted to come hame," he said. It was no defence; it was the sad and simple expression of his wish. "What for, my sweet?" "I hate the school," he said bitterly; "I aye want to be at hame." His mother saw his cut mouth. "Johnny," she cried in concern, "what's the matter with your lip, dear? Has ainybody been meddling ye?" "It was Swipey Broon," he said. "Did ever a body hear?" she cried. "Things have come to a fine pass when decent weans canna go to the school without a wheen rag-folk yoking on them! But what can a body ettle? Scotland's not what it used to be! It's owrerun wi' the dirty Eerish!" In her anger she did not see the sloppy dishclout on the scullery chair, on which she sank exhausted by her rage. "Oh, but I let him have it," swaggered John. "I threatened to knock the fleas off him. The other boys were on _his_ side, or I would have walloped him." "Atweel, they would a' be on his side," she cried. "But it's juist envy, Johnny. Never mind, dear; you'll soon be left the school, and there's not wan of them has the business that you have waiting ready to step intil." "Mother," he pleaded, "let me bide here for the rest o' the day!" "Oh, but your father, Johnny? If _he_ saw ye!" "If you gie me some o' your novelles to look at, I'll go up to the garret and hide, and ye can ask Jenny no to tell." She gave him a hunk of nuncheon and a bundle of her novelettes, and he stole up to an empty garret and squatted on the bare boards. The sun streamed through the skylight window and lay, an oblong patch, in the centre of the floor. John noted the head of a nail that stuck gleaming up. He could hear the pigeons _rooketty-cooing_ on the roof, and every now and then a slithering sound, as they lost their footing on the slates and went sliding downward to the rones. But for that, all was still, uncannily still. Once a zinc pail clanked in the yard, and he started with fear, wondering if that was his faither!