r," says I in his lug; an' he gleyed roond at
me, an' says, wi' anither o' his vegabon'-like winks, "Ay; that's
Wattie Scott's monniment, Bawbie. A great man, Wattie! It was him 'at
wret Bailie Nickil Jarvie an' the Reed Gauntlet an' so on. He bade a
fortnicht wi' Luckie Walker at Auchmithie. Bandy Wobster's grandfather
sell'd him a dog when he was there. He was a fine man, Wattie."

Meg an' the bairns an' me gaed into the cab, an Sandy, he wud be up on
the dickey aside the driver. As I cudda tell'd afore he gaed up, he
wasna there five meenits when he was nearhand at the fechtin' wi' the
man aboot the wey he drave his horse. I was gled when we landit at
Meg's hoose, for I was expectin' ilky meenit to see the cabby--he was
an ill-faur'd, rossen-faced lookin' tyke--fling Sandy heels-ower-heid
into the cab amon' the bairns--he was black-gairdin' the man's horse
for an auld, hunger'd reeshil, an' praisin' up Donal' that terriple!

"Man, you've juist to lay the reinds on's back, an' he's awa' like the
wind," I heard him sayin'. "There's naething a' roond aboot can touch
him. He can trot up the High Road wi' sasteen hunderwecht. He's a
reg'lar topper! You should send that hunger'd-lookin' radger o' yours
to Glesterlaw"; an' so on he gaed, an' the man girnin' an' skoolin' at
him like a teegar.

When we cam' aff at the Meadows, Sandy gaed roond aboot the beast,
chucklin' awa' till himsel' juist like watter dreepin' intil a tume
cistern; but he keepit oot o' the reach o' the cabby's kornals. I
expeckit to see him get roond the linders wi' them for his impidence.

"If you cam' to Arbroath wi' the like o' that, the Croolty to Animals
wud grip you afore you was weel through the toll," he says to the man.
"You'll better g'wa' hame wi't as lang's it's het. If you lat that
sharger cule, it'll stiffen up, an' you'll never get it oot o' the bit,
till you bring a cairt for't."

The cabby got his bawbees frae Meg, an' drave awa', gien Sandy a glower
like a puttin' bull; but Sandy juist gae a bit lauch, an' cried,
"Ta-ta!"

We got into the house. Eh, sic a place for stech! Haud your tongue!
Really yon fair sneckit a'thing. Sandy could hardly get his hat aff
for glowerin' aboot him; an' when he did get it aff, he handit it to
ane o' the loons; an', afore you cudda sen Jeck Robison, they were oot
at the back door scorin' goals wi't throo' atween the claes-poles on
the green. Meg was at the hurdies o' them wi' a switch