He went straight to the shop he had just left, and bought another shilling's worth of string.
When he got home, he concealed nothing from Robert, whom he found seated in the barn, with his fiddle, waiting his return.
Robert started to his feet.

He could appropriate his grandfather's violin, to which, possibly, he might have shown as good a right as his grandmother--certainly his grandfather would have accorded it him--but her money was sacred.
'Shargar, ye vratch!' he cried, 'fess that shillin' here direckly.

Tak the twine wi' ye, and gar them gie ye back the shillin'.' 'They winna brak the bargain,' cried Shargar, beginning almost to whimper, for a savoury smell of dinner was coming across the yard.
'Tell them it's stown siller, and they'll be in het watter aboot it gin they dinna gie ye 't back.' 'I maun hae my denner first,' remonstrated Shargar.
But the spirit of his grandmother was strong in Robert, and in a matter of rectitude there must be no temporizing.

Therein he could be as tyrannical as the old lady herself.
'De'il a bite or a sup s' gang ower your thrapple till I see that shillin'.' There was no help for it.

Six hungry miles must be trudged by Shargar ere he got a morsel to eat.