ted.

As he spoke he looked towards the farther end of the room, which lay in
obscurity; for it was a large room, lighted only by the four candles on
the table at which the company sat.

'Whaur, Mr. Cruickshank?' asked the dominie in a whisper.

'There,' answered Sampson Peddie, the bookseller, who seized the
opportunity of saying something, and pointed furtively where the
solicitor had only looked.

A dim figure was descried at a table in the farthest corner of the room,
and they proceeded to carry out the plan they generally adopted to get
rid of a stranger.

'Ye made use o' a curious auld Scots phrase this moment, Mr. Curshank:
can ye explain hoo it comes to beir the meanin' that it's weel kent to
beir?' said the manufacturer.

'Not I, Mr. MacGregor,' answered the solicitor. 'I'm no philologist or
antiquarian. Ask the chairman.'

'Gentlemen,' responded Mr. Innes, taking a huge pinch of snuff after
the word, and then, passing the box to Mr. Cocker, a sip from his glass
before he went on: 'the phrase, gentlemen, "a drap i' the hoose," no
doobt refers to an undesirable presence, for ye're weel awaur that it's
a most unpleasin' discovery, in winter especially, to find a drop o'
water hangin' from yer ceiling; a something, in short, whaur it has no
business to be, and is not accordingly looked for, or prepared against.'

'It seems to me, Mr. Innes,' said MacGregor, 'that ye hae hit the nail,
but no upo' the heid. What mak' ye o' the phrase, no confined to the
Scots tongue, I believe, o' an eaves-drapper? The whilk, no doobt,
represents a body that hings aboot yer winnock, like a drap hangin' ower
abune it frae the eaves--therefore called an eaves drapper. But the sort
of whilk we noo speak, are a waur sort a'thegither; for they come to the
inside o' yer hoose, o' yer verra chaumer, an' hing oot their lang lugs
to hear what ye carena to be hard save by a dooce frien' or twa ower a
het tum'ler.'

At the same moment the door opened, and a man entered, who was received
with unusual welcome.

'Bless my sowl!' said the president, rising; 'it's Mr. Lammie!--Come
awa', Mr. Lammie. Sit doon; sit doon. Whaur hae ye been this mony a day,
like a pelican o' the wilderness?'

Mr. Lammie was a large, mild man, with florid cheeks, no whiskers, and a
prominent black eye. He was characterized by a certain simple alacrity,
a gentle, but outspeaking readiness, which made him a favourite.

'I dinna richtly mak' oot wha ye are,'