He was sitting at nine o'clock one evening, wondering if there was no means of escape from the wretched life he had to lead, when he received a letter from Jock Allan, asking him to come and dine. CHAPTER XVII. That dinner was a turning-point in young Gourlay's career. It is lucky that a letter describing it has fallen into the hands of the patient chronicler. It was sent by young Jimmy Wilson to his mother. As it gives an idea--which is slightly mistaken--of Jock Allan, and an idea--which is very unmistakable--of young Wilson, it is here presented in the place of pride. It were a pity not to give a human document of this kind all the honour in one's power. "Dear mother," said the wee sma' Scoatchman--so the hearty Allan dubbed him--"dear mother, I just write to inform you that I've been out to a grand dinner at Jock Allan's. He met me on Princes Street, and made a great how-d'ye-do. 'Come out on Thursday night, and dine with me,' says he, in his big way. So here I went out to see him. I can tell you he's a warmer! I never saw a man eat so much in all my born days--but I suppose he would be having more on his table than usual to show off a bit, knowing us Barbie boys would be writing home about it all. And drink! D'ye know, he began with a whole half tumbler of whisky, and how many more he had I really should _not_ like to say! And he must be used to it, too, for it seemed to have no effect on him whatever. And then he smoked and smoked--two great big cigars after we had finished eating, and then 'Damn it,' says he--he's an awful man to swear--'damn it,' he says, 'there's no satisfaction in cigars; I must have a pipe,' and he actually smoked _four_ pipes before I came away! I noticed the cigars were called 'Estorellas--Best Quality,' and when I was in last Saturday night getting an ounce of shag at the wee shoppie round the corner, I asked the price of 'these Estorellas.' 'Ninepence a piece!' said the bodie. Just imagine Jock Allan smoking eighteen-pence, and not being satisfied! He's up in the world since he used to shaw turnips at Loranogie for sixpence a day! But he'll come down as quick if he keeps on at yon rate. He made a great phrase with me; but though it keeps down one's weekly bill to get a meal like yon--I declare I wasn't hungry for two days--for all that I'll go very little about him. He'll be the kind that borrows money very fast--one of those harum-scarum ones!" Criticism like that is a boomerang that comes back to hit the emitting skull with a hint of its kindred woodenness. It reveals the writer more than the written of. Allan was a bigger man than you would gather from Wilson's account of his Gargantuan revelry. He had a genius for mathematics--a gift which crops up, like music, in the most unexpected corners--and from plough-boy and herd he had become an actuary in Auld Reekie. Wilson had no need to be afraid, the meagre fool, for his host could have bought him and sold him.