She was finding ease who had known little.

The Reverend MacShilluck had never heard the like, he’d advertised for a gardening body and the morning the advertisement appeared in the Runner, the first to come in search of the job—now, who do you think the young thug was?

The housekeeper simpered and said she didn’t know: could it be the young man was an ill-doer, like?

The Reverend MacShilluck said Not only that, far worse than that, ahhhhhhhhhhhh, far worse. And the housekeeper said Well, God be here. Was the smokie to your taste? for she wanted away back to the kitchen to add up the grocer’s account for the week and see how much she could nick on the sly and save up against the day that would come when she’d be able to clear out completely and leave the clorty cuddy forever…. But he was fairly in full swing by then and went on to tell that the young man who’d come was no other than that thug Ewan Tavendale who’d led the strikers at Gowans and Gloag’s and been sacked for it, he’d been in the jail and yet had the impertinence to come looking for a job about a Manse. So the Reverend had refused him, sharp and plain, he’d seen the young brute was a typical Red, born lazy, living off doles and never seeking an honest day’s work—

The housekeeper said God be here, like that? Then he couldn’t have been seeking the job at all? And the Reverend MacShilluck gave a bit cough and said he would never trust a Red, not him; had he ever told her the tale of the way at the General Assembly he’d once choked off a Socialist, Colquohoun—shame on him, and him a minister, too! …

Miss Murgatroyd said Eh me, it was Awful, but had Mrs Colquohoun—oh, sorry, she meant Mrs Ogilvie—heard of the Dreadful Occurrence at Gawpus’s shop? And Chris said she hadn’t and Miss Murgatroyd said she didn’t know how to speak, she was sure Mrs Ogilvie would understand her point of view and that she didn’t really believe that young Mr Ewan had behaved like that. And Chris asked what was this about Ewan? and Miss Murgatroyd told her the dreadful story, just as she’d got it from that dear Mrs Gawpus that afternoon at the Unionist Ladies. It seemed that Mr Ewan had got employment in the basement of Bailie Gawpus’s shop, and oh me, it was awful to tell the rest. He’d been there only a day or so when the other workmen in the basement had started raising a din because there wasn’t a proper, you know, WC there, the Bailie had thought it would be just pampering keelies, wasn’t there the yard outside? The Bailie had gone down to see what was wrong, and then he’d set eyes on Mr Ewan, so unfortunate, for the Bailie remembered him—he had seen him when he was arrested for taking a part in that dreadful strike. Bailie Gawpus hadn’t known that Mr Ewan was one of his employees, a foreman had engaged him—such a nice man, the Bailie, but awful strict, a little stout, she was sure it was his heart—