. There was a crunch an' a splash,
an' there was the chairman's bowd legs stickin' up oot o' the boiler,
an' his face lookin' throo atween his taes, wi' a pair o' een like a
wild cat. He was up to the neck amon' the claes I had steepin' for the
morn's washin'. The nesty footer that he was, I cudda dune I kenna
what till him.

"Ye great, big, clorty, tarry beast," I roared in at the winda; "come
oot amon' my claes this meenit, or I'll come in an' kin'le the fire,
an' boil ye." Sandy bloo oot the can'le; an' by a' the how-d'ye-does
ever was heard tell o', you niver heard the marrow o' yon. Stumpie
Mertin roared "Order! Feyre!" at the pitch o' his voice; an' the
chairman was yowlin', "For ony sake, gie's a grip o' some o' your hands
till I get oot o' this draw-wall, or I'm a deid man."

I think he had gotten haud o' a shelf abune his heid, an' giein'
himsel' a poo up; for there was a most terriple reeshel o' broken
bottles, an' beef tins, an' roarin' an' swearin', you never heard the
like.

"What i' the face o' the earth was ye doin' blawin' oot the can'le,
Sandy?" said Dauvid Kenawee. "Hold on a meenit till I strik' a spunk,
an' see wha's a' deid," he says; an' wi' that he strak' a match an'
lichtit the can'le. Bandy had gotten himsel' akinda warsled oot o' the
boiler, but Stumpie Mertin had tnakit his wid leg ower by the ankle,
an' there he was hawpin' aboot, gaen bobbin' up an' doon like a
rabbit's tail, roarin' "Murder!"

"I think we'll better lave ower the rest o' the meetin' till anither
nicht," said Moses Certricht, "an' we can look into the toon's midden
some ither time."

"Juist tak' a look roond aboot ye," says I, in at the winda, "an' ye'll
see midden eneuch. Wha's genna clean up that mairter? I paws for a
answer," says I, in a voice as like Sandy's bural-society wey o'
speakin' as I cud manish. "Speak aboot pettin' Sandy Bowden at the tap
o' the poll. He'll be mair use at the end o' the bissam shaft, I'm
thinkin'."

"C'wey, you lads," says Bandy. "I'm soakin' dreepin' throo an' throo,
an' it's time I was oot o' this."

"Hear, hear," says Watty again; an' oot the entry they a' merched
withoot a wird. If I'm no mista'en that'll be the end o' Sandy's Toon
Cooncillin'; an' time till't, I think. The man's no' wyse to think
aboot ony sic thing. Perfeckly ridic'lous!

Sandy an' me were oot the Sands enjoyin' a bit walk juist yesterday
efternune, an' we were dreedfu' quiet. There didna appea