."

"Come on, damn you, you son of a tinkler," he urged. "Drink up, an' let
us mak' a nicht o't," and thus urged they drained their glasses, and had
them refilled again and again.

"Gie's a sang, Geordie," cried one of the company across the room to an
old shaggy-faced individual, who sat and laughed and drank with happy
demeanor, rubbing his bristly chin, which resembled the back of a
hedgehog, with dirty gnarled fingers which seemed made for lifting
glasses, having a natural crook in them, into which the glass as
naturally fitted. "You hinna sung anything yet. Gie's yin o' your ain
makin'."

"Lodsake, I canna sing," said Geordie, with the air of a man who wanted
to be told he could sing.

"Ach, you can sing fine," was the chorused reply from nearly everyone in
the company.

"Come on, Geordie, you ken you can sing fine. Man, there's no' a better
singer in the place, auld and a' as ye are."

"Och, I canna sing noo, Charlie," replied Geordie, clearing his throat,
"but I'll confess that I hae seen the day when I could lilt it wi' the
best o' them."

"Oh, but we a' ken fine that you can sing. Man, it's a treat to hear
him," said Charlie, turning to Black Jock. "He could wile the bird aff
the bush. Gie's yin o' your ain, Geordie. It's aye best to hear you at
yin o' your ain."

"Oh, weel," said Geordie with a show of reluctance, as he rose to his
feet, making a noise in his throat, like the exhaust pipe of an engine,
"seein' that you are all so pressin' on the maitter, I'll gi'e ye a bit
verse or twa."

A roar of applause greeted Geordie as he sat down, and words of
appreciation broke from everyone in the room.

"Dam'd guid, Geordie! Fill up your glass. That deserves a richt guid
dram!" cried Black Jock, as he reached across the table and poured a
bumper for Geordie. "Wha's gaun to sing next? Come on, chaps; let us
mak' a nicht o't!"

"Hear, hear," said Geordie. "I'm just feelin' in gran' fettle for a
nicht. Tammas Fairly will gie's a bit verse maybe. He can sing a fair
guid song."

"Me sing!" exclaimed Tam. "Gae awa'! Ye ken fine I canna sing like you,
Geordie," and there was a hint of assumed bashfulness in Tam's voice as
he spoke.

"Come on, Tam. There's to be nae jookin' oot o' it. It's to be a sang
roon' aboot, so you micht as weel begin noo, an' get your turn by."

"Ay, come on," chimed in Walker. "Let us enjoy oorsel' the nicht, when
we are in a mood for it. Guid kens when we may ever spend a nicht