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But Pottie sprang oot o' the coat it wasna ill to get ooten, puir chield an' doon the yaird a' he cud flee, wi' Sandy at his tail, whirlin' the hewk roond his heid, an' skreechin' like the very mischief. Bandy an' a' the rest cam' fleein' efter Sandy.
"I've been fleein' a' roond Edinboro wi' naething on but my nicht-goon, an' my lum, an' a' the coal cairters i' the kingdom ringin' their bells at my tails. Sic a wey o' doin'! O dear me! I wiss I was hame again! O dear me!" "That's no an umberell, you doited fule," says I. "That's the denner bell you've been fleein' aboot wi' i' your hand."
"Bawbie here winna believe me," continued Sandy, gien Mester Blair a wink, "but I've tell'd her twa-three times that when I've gane doon the yaird i' the winter-time wi' my auld greatcoat it's gettin' very green noo, but it was a bit guid stuff aince in its day the birds 'ill come fleein' doon an' sit on the palin' aside me, an' wheetle-wheetle awa' for a whilie.
In mad haste alone ill provisioned fleein' in terror.... He sat on the hills sat there like an old crag in the rain an' wind waitin' for the doctor's sloop. 'There she is, Jutt! says he. 'No, says I. 'Thank God, Jagger, that's a schooner, reefed down an' runnin' for harbour! ... 'There she is! says he.
When I've an engagement there, in the halls or in a revue, 'tis weel enow, and I'm happy. But always and again there'll be somethin' tae mak' me mindfu' o' the Clyde and ma wee hoose at Dunoon, and ma thochts wull gae fleein' back to Scotland. It's ma hame that's ane thing. There's a magic i' that word, for a' it's sae auld. But there's mair than that in the love I ha' for Dunoon and all Scotland.
An' nows an' thens a gert white ullet would coom fleein' through t' boughs, an' all t' time there were lile bats flutterin' about ower t' watter an' coomin' so close agean Doed they ommost brushed his face wi' their wings. "Doed was wellnigh flaid to deeath, but for all that he couldn't tak his een off o' t' squirrels; they'd bewitched him, had t' squirrels.
'Maybe I could ha'e endured it till the week was up, if it hadna been for ma auld frien'. Ye see, the puir body couldna speak or think o' onything excep' airyplanes fleein' through the air an' drappin' bombs on her dwellin' hoose an' her hen-hoose, no forgettin' her pig-hoose. Mornin', noon an' nicht, she kep' speirin' at me if I was prepared to meet ma Maker, maybe wantin' a leg.
An' sae whan the airemite, as the auld minister ca'd him though what for he ca'd a muckle block like yon an airy mite, I'm sure I never cud fathom whan he gat up, as I was sayin', an' cam' foret wi' his han' oot, she gae a scraich 'at jist garred my lugs dirl, an' doon she drappit; an' there, whan I ran up, was she lyin' i' the markis his airms, as white's a cauk eemage; an' it was lang or he broucht her till hersel', for he wadna lat me rin for the hoosekeeper, but sent me fleein' to the f'untain for watter, an' gied me a gowd guinea to haud my tongue aboot it a'. Sae noo, my leddy, ye're forewarnt, an' no ill can come to ye, for there's naething to be fleyt at whan ye ken what's gauin' to meet ye."
Ye may lippen tae 't, a' wesna five and thirty year wi' Maister MacWheep for naethin'. "He wes a wee fractious and self-willed at the off-go, an' wud be wantin' this an' that for his denner, but he sune learned tae tak' what wes pit afore him; an' as for gaein' oot withoot tellin' me, he wud as sune hae thocht o' fleein'; when he cam' in he keepit naethin' back at his tea.
He's aye writin' letters to the newspapers, an' they prent them aboot this an' aboot that aboot beasties i' the watter, an' lectreesity, an' I kenna what a'; an' some says 'at hoo he'll be a rich man some day, the moment he's dune fin'in' oot something or ither he's beenwarslin' at for the feck o' a ten year or sae; but the gentry never thinks naething o' a man sae lang as he's only duin' his best or his warst, as the case may be to lay his han' upo' the siller 'at's fleein' aboot him like a snaw-drift.
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