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There were Baigreys about Gilmerton; ye'll be one of that lot? Then this'll be a friend's portmantie, like? Why? Because the name upon it's Nucholson! Oh, if ye're in a hurry, that's another job. Waverley Brig? Are ye for away? So the friendly toper prated and questioned and kept John's heart in a flutter.

And just then the cab suddenly stopped, and there was his persecutor rapping on the front glass. John let it down, and beheld the port-wine countenance flamed with intellectual triumph. "I ken wha ye are!" cried the husky voice. "I mind ye now. Ye're a Nucholson. I drove ye to Hermiston to a Christmas party, and ye came back on the box, and I let ye drive." It was a fact.

Ye're a Nucholson. I drove ye to Hermiston to a Christmas party, and ye came back on the box, and I let ye drive. It is a fact. John knew the man; they had been even friends. His enemy, he now remembered, was a fellow of great good nature endless good nature with a boy; why not with a man? Why not appeal to his better side? He grasped at the new hope.

Then this'll be a friend's portmantie, like? Why? Because the name upon it's Nucholson! O, if ye're in a hurry, that's another job. Waverley Brig'? Are ye for away?" So the friendly toper prated and questioned and kept John's heart in a flutter.