r to be
onything to speak aboot ava. So I juist said in a kind o' jokey wey,
"Ay, Sandy, an' hae ye seen the Ward Committee yet, laddie, aboot that
Toon Cooncil bisness."

As shure's ocht, he grew reed i' the face; but he got richt efter a
whilie, an' he says, "We're genna be like the Skule Brod efter this,
Bawbie. We'll hae oor meetin's in private, an' juist lat you an' the
publik ken aboot bits o' things ya can mak' naething o'. D'ye see? If
ye pet your nose in aboot ony bolies harkenin', you'll mibby get the
wecht o' a bissam shaft on the end o't. That'll learn ye to slooch an'
harken to ither fowk's bisness."

"Keep me!" says I, I says. "Ye're terriple peppery the nicht, Sandy.
Wha's been straikin' you against the hair, cratur? It wasna me that
shuved Bandy i' the boiler; but he'd been neen the waur o' a bit steep,
for he trails aboot a clorty-like sicht. Him speak aboot the watter
supply! It's no' muckle he kens aboot the watter supply, or the soap
supply ether."

"Look here, Bawbie," says Sandy, "if you're genna rag me ony mair aboot
that, it's as fac's ocht, I'll rin awa' an' join the mileeshie. I wud
raither be blawn into minch wi' an' echty-ton gun than stand ony mair
o' your gab."

"Tut, tut, Sandy," says I, "keep on your dickie, man. Ye're no'
needin' to get into a pavey like that. Keep me, fowk wud think ye was
discussin' the auld kirk questin, the wey you're roarin'. The
mileeshie wudna hae you at ony rate, an' we're no' juist dune wi' ye at
hame yet. But neist time you're makin' a speech, Sandy, dinna try an'
stand on ae leg. That's what put ye aff the straucht. Ye see----"

I lookit roond, an' Sandy wasna there. When I turned, here's him
fleein' in the Sands wi' his fingers in his lugs, like spring-heeled
Jeck. I tell ye, that man winna heed a single wird I say till him.

XVI.

SANDY'S CHRISTMAS PRESENT.

Oh, wheesht! When Sandy's on for doin' something special, he nearhand
aye mak's a gutter o't some wey or ither. On Setarday nicht he was
gaen aboot hostin', an' spittin', an' sayin' ilky noo an' than, "Ay,
Bawbie; it's a fine nicht the nicht." He sweepit oot ahent the washin'
soda barrel twa-three times; then he rowed up the tnock that ticht that
she's never steered a meenit sin' syne. He took the hammer an' ca'd a'
the coals fair into koom, an' then he redd up at the back shop till I
cudna lay my hands on a single thing 'at I wantit. I saw fine there
was something