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I was forgetting, before the war came to remind me, the days when I'd been puir and had had tae think longer over the spending of a saxpence than I had need to in 1914, in you days before the Kaiser turned his Huns loose, over using a hundred poonds. I'm not blaming a puir body for being bitter when things gae wrong.
But up and up it ran. And when I knocked it doon at last it was for twenty-five hundred dollars five hundred poonds! But that wasna a'. I was weel content. But the gentleman that bocht it lookit at it, and then sent it back, and tauld me to auction it all ower again. I did, and this time, again, it went for twenty-five hundred dollars.
"Where are ye gaun?" he asked, for Tam's besetting vice was an unquenchable curiosity. "To the trenches afore Masille, sir-r," said the man he addressed. "Ye'll no' be callin' me 'sir-r," reproved Tam. "A'm a s-arrgent. Hoo lang will ye stay in the trenches up yon?" "Foor days, Sergeant," said the man. "Foor days guid Lord!" answered Tam. "A' wouldn't do that wairk for a thoosand poonds a week."
So there was five thousand dollars a thousand poonds for ma wounded laddies at hame in Scotland. Noo, think o' the contrast. There's a toon I'll no be writing doon its name where they wadna bid but twelve dollars aboot twa poond ten shillings for the book! Could ye blame me for being vexed? Maybe I said more than I should, but I dinna think so. I'm thinking still those folk were mean.
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