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The Frowsy Chambermaid Of The "Red Lion" Had Just Finished Washing The
Front Door Steps. She Rose From Her Stooping Posture And, Being Of
Slovenly Habit, Flung The Water From Her Pail Straight Out, Without
Moving From Where She Stood. The Smooth Round Arch Of The Falling Water
Glistened For A Moment In Mid-Air. John Gourlay, Standing In Front Of
His New House At The Head Of The Brae, Could Hear The Swash Of It When
It Fell. The Morning Was Of Perfect Stillness.
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