'You must go to his place of idolatry; look upon him there!' says he, 'but nowhere else.

Avert your eyes, close your ears, pass him by like a three days' corp.

He is like that damnable monster Basiliscus, which defiles--yea, poisons!--by the sight.'-- All which was hardly claratory to the boy's mind.
Presently Montroymont came home, and called up the stairs to Francie.
Traquair was a good shot and swordsman: and it was his pleasure to walk with his son over the braes of the moorfowl, or to teach him arms in the back court, when they made a mighty comely pair, the child being so lean, and light, and active, and the laird himself a man of a manly, pretty stature, his hair (the periwig being laid aside) showing already white with many anxieties, and his face of an even, flaccid red.

But this day Francie's heart was not in the fencing.
'Sir,' says he, suddenly lowering his point, 'will ye tell me a thing if I was to ask it ?' 'Ask away,' says the father.
'Well, it's this,' said Francie: 'Why do you and me comply if it's so wicked ?' 'Ay, ye have the cant of it too!' cries Montroymont.

'But I'll tell ye for all that.