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"Ay, Sandy," says I, "you'll go an' get the swine suppered an' your ither jobs dune, an', gin ten o'clock were here, you'll get a coo's drink, wi' plenty o' pepper in't, an' get to your bed. Thae washin'-hoose argeymints are affectin' your nervous system, I'm dootin'. Rin, noo, an' see an' stick in."
They wudda gane through the washin'-hoose door if it hadna happened to be open. I had forgotten aboot them at the time; but, keep me, when they cam' oot o' Dauvid's efter their tea, I floo to the door. I thocht it was somebody run ower.
Every ither nicht they've been ether i' the washin'-hoose or i' the garret; an' Sandy's been gaen aboot scorin' a' the doors wi' kauk, an' makin' rings an' lines like railroads an' so on a' ower them. "What's this you an' Bandy's up till noo?" I says to Sandy the ither mornin', juist when we were sittin' at oor brakfast.
Pottie Lawson, Bandy Wobster, an' Sandy have juist been thick an' three faud sin the Hielant games toornament, an' I kent fine there was some pliskie brooin' amon' them. They've hardly ever been oot o' the washin'-hoose, them an' twa-three mair. Great, muckle, hingin'-aboot, ill-faured scoonges, every ane o' them!
Dauvid Kenawee an' Bandy Wobster an' him were stravagin' roond aboot the place wi' a fitrool an' a bawbee can'le, an' I saw immidintly that there was something i' the wind. I was juist clearin' my throat to lat them ken there was to be nae mair o' their conspiracies in my washin'-hoose, when Dauvid slippit in his wird afore me. "Come awa, Bawbie," he saya, says he, in his uswal quiet wey.
As oor respeckit chairman says, I'm no' like Ralph the Rover, sailin' awa' an' scoorin' the sea for mony a day. That looks like a pure weyst o' soap juist like what goes on i' the Toon Cooncil daily-day. You may lauch, freends, but it's ower true; an' wha is't peys for't?" "It's his! It's his, lads!" roared a' the billies i' the washin'-hoose. "It is so," said Sandy.
Weel, but, as I was sayin', the ither Wedensday nicht I flang my shallie ower my heid, an' took a stap oot at the back door i' the gloamin'. It was a fine nicht, an' I sat doon on the simmer-seat at the gavel o' the washin'-hoose, an' heard the argey-bargeyin' gaen on inside.
"Dinna touch him, or he'll mittal some o' ye," says Bandy; an' the billies a' cleared awa' to the ither end o' the washin'-hoose. A' o' a sudden Sandy grippit an' auld roosty hewk that was lyin' on the boiler, an' roarin', "Whaur's Pottie Lawson, an' I'll cut his wizand till him," he made a flee at the door.
Weemin can beat them in mony weys, I admit; but, for doonricht selfishness, come your wa's! There's been great gaitherin's in oor washin'-hoose this while back "Nochties-an'-Broziana," Bandy Wobster ca'd the meetin's to Sandy. The ither Wedensday i' the forenicht the shop was shut i' the efternune, of coorse; I'm a great believer i' the half-holiday, you see. I think it's a capital idea.
Dauvid proposed a vote o' thanks to Sandy; an' you wudda thocht a' the steam-engines atween this an' Glesca had gotten into oor washin'-hoose, wi' their whistles on full-cock. The noise was something terriple. I had to pet my fingers in my lugs, an' rin. Was ever a woman so provokit wi' a ramstam, dotrifeed gomeral o' a man?
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