just a curran blethers," said the smith in scorn.

Dauvit looked at him thoughtfully.

"That's a very ignorant remark, smith," he said gravely. "There's
naebody kens what a dream is. Some o' thae spiritualist lads say that
when ye are asleep yer spirit goes to the next plane, and that maks yer
dreams."

The smith laughed loudly.

"Oh, Dauvit! Why, man, I dreamed last nicht that I was sittin' we a
great muckle pint o' beer in my hand. Do ye mean to tell me that there
is beer in heaven?"

There was a laugh at Dauvit's expense, but the laugh turned against the
smith when Dauvit remarked dryly: "I didna mention heaven; I said the
next plane, and onybody that kens you, smith, kens that the plane
you're gaein' to is the doon plane."

"Naturally, a muckle pint o' beer will be the exact thing ye need doon
there," he added.

"It's my opeenion," said old John Peters, "that dreams is just like a
motor car withoot the driver. Or like a schule withoot the mester; the
bairns just run aboot whaur they like, nae control as ye micht say.
Weel, that's jest what happens in dreams; the mester is sleepin' and
the bairns do all sorts o' mad things."

"Aye, man, John," said Dauvit, who seemed to be struck with the idea,
"there's maybe something in that. Just as bairns when they get free do
a' the things they're no meant to do, we do the same things in oor
dreams. Goad, but I've done some awfu' things in my dreams!"

Here Jake Tosh the roadman began to cough, and Jake's cough always
means that he is about to say something.

"You're just a lot o' haverin' craturs," he said with conviction. "If
ye had ony sense ye wud ken that the dream is just cheese and tripe for
supper."

Dauvit's eyes twinkled.

"And does the cheese wander frae yer stammick up to yer heid, Jake?"

"I wudna go so far as that," said Jake seriously, "but what I say is
that a' the different parts o' the body work thegether. If the
stammick has to work a' nicht to digest the cheese, the heid has to
keep workin' at the same rate, and that's why ye dream."

"Aye, man, Jake," said Dauvit, "it's a bonny theory, but wud ye jest
tell me exactly what work yer toes and fingers and hair are doin' a'
nicht to keep upsides wi' yer stammick?"

Jake dismissed the question with an airy wave of his hand.

"Onybody kens that," he said; "they grow. Yer hair and yer nails grow
at nichts, and that's why ye need a shave in the mornin'!"

"What if you don't dream at a