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I was stannin' at the coonter o' his shop waitin' for an unce o' sneeshin'; and Robert he was servin' a bit bairnie ower the coouter wi' a pennyworth o' triacle, when, in a jiffey, there cam' sic a blast, an' a reek fit to smore ye, oot o' the bit fire, an' the shop was fu' o' reek, afore ye could hae pitten the pint o' ae thoom upo' the pint o' the ither.
I was gled when I got hame an' fand a'thing in winderfu' order; although Sandy was gien Nathan coosies i' the shop jumpin' ower the coonter wi' ane o' his hands in his pooch. It's juist his wey, the cratur. He canna help it. "Was the tinkler wife here when you cam' back?" I said to Sandy. "Oo, ay," says he. "I gae her her ceenimin."
"Go on, Jock," says ane o' them, gien anither ane a shuve forrit. "You're the captain; speak you." Jock gae a host, an' syne layin' his hand a gey clorty ane it was on the coonter, an' stanin' on ae fit, he says "Isyin?" "Wha micht he be?" says I. "Sandy," said the captain. "What Sandy?" says I. "No," said ane o' the birkies ahent; "your Sandy Sandy Bowden."
"Ye can come into the shop for the day, and see what's gaein on. Whan ye're a muckle woman, ye may be fit to stan' ahin' the coonter some day yersel' wha kens?" Robert Bruce regarded the shop as his Bannockburn, where all his enemies, namely customers, were to be defeated, that he might be enriched with their spoils.
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