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'I dinna ask for leave jist for to gang to a rotten pairty. 'Ay, ye've mair to dae wi' yer leave, his father was beginning, with a wink, when his mother, with something of her old asperity, said: 'Macgreegor, that's no the way to speak o' pairties that folk gi'e in yer honour.
'Oho! said John, gaily; then solemnly, 'What kin' o' a ring, Macgreegor? 'An engagement yin, the ruddy youth replied. Mr. Robinson laughed, but not very heartily. 'Sae lang as it's no a waddin' ring. . . . Weel, weel, this is the day for news. He touched his son's arm. 'It'll be the young lass in the stationery shop her that ye whiles see at yer Uncle Purdie's hoose eh? 'Hoo did ye ken?
Ye're welcome, Macgreegor, rael welcome. 'Jist got leave this mornin' three days, Macgregor explained, not a little relieved to have found his uncle alone to begin with. 'So I catched the first train I could. 'Jist that, exactly so, said Mr. Purdie with a heavy sigh that seemed irrelevant. 'Weel, ma lad, he resumed hurriedly, 'if ye tak' a sate here, I'll awa' up the stair an' get yer aunt.
'That's no what I meant. Christina wud never put up wi' Macgreegor lookin' at anither lass. 'Weemen was born jealous; but it's guid for them. 'John Robi'son! ha'e ye the face to tell me ye wud approve o' Macgreegor cairryin' on wi' anither lass when he's engaged to Christina? 'Of course I wudna exac'ly approve o' it. Mr. Robinson scratched his head.
'But what kep' ye late, Macgreegor? he inquired, with a futile effort to make his good-humoured, whiskered visage assume a stern expression. 'Come, come, oot wi' it! An 'unce o' guid reasons is worth a pun' o' fair apologies. 'The recruitin' office, said Macgregor, blushing, 'wasna open till nine. 'The recruitin' office!
'But surely ye're raisin' an awfu' excitement ower a pair o' socks. 'It wasna the socks, ye stupid: it was the fondest love! John laughed again, but less boisterously, 'Maggie's no blate, whaever she is. Did ye no speir at Macgreegor aboot her? 'Oh, man! ha'e ye nae sense? I jist tied up the paircel again an' left it on his bed. 'Weel, that ends it, John said comfortably.
Mrs. Robinson came over and laid a damp hand on her boy's shoulder. 'Macgreegor, ye needna be feart to tell us. We can thole it. She glanced at her husband, and said, in a voice he had not often heard: 'John, oor wee Macgreegor has growed up to be a; sojer' and went back to her dishes. Later, and just when he ought to be returning to his work, Mr.
'Oho, so there was wine in 't! I fancied it was inebriated-like. But the mistak' I made was in tryin' to kep it when it was descendin'. A duke wud jist ha'e let it gang as if a wine jeelly was naething to him. But, d'ye ken, wife, I was unco uneasy when I discovered the bulk o' it on ma shoe efter we had withdrew to the drawin' room 'Haud yer tongue, man! Macgreegor, what nicht 'll suit ye?
At the end of a minute or so 'Ha'e ye got it bad, Macgreegor? he inquired. 'So, so. Arm an' leg. I'm feelin' rotten, but I'm no fini shed yet. Ha'e ye ony water? Ma bottle's shot through. 'Here ye are. . . . Feelin' seeck-like? 'I'm seeck at gettin' knocked oot at the vera beginnin. 'Never heed. Did ye kill yer man? 'Ay. 'Same here. . . . In the back. . . . Ma Goad!
Sending prize by same post. This was better! more like Christina herself. All was not lost! Eagerly he tore off the numerous wrappings and disclosed a cocoa-nut! In his present state of mind he would have preferred an infernal machine. A cocoa-nut! She was just laughing at him! He was about to conceal the nut when Willie appeared. 'My! ye're the lucky deevil, Macgreegor! Frae yer uncle, I suppose.
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