o be lads and lassies, the bread dwindles, and
the butter increases; but the old men and women who totter about the
commonty, how shall they munch when their teeth are gone? That's the
question. I'm a Dominie. What!--no answer? Go to the bottom of the
class, all of you.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER II.

As I said, we were all on the pig-sty. Of the _habitues_ I scarcely
need to speak to you, since you must know their names, even if
you fail to pronounce them. But there was a stranger amongst us, a
stranger who, it was said, had come from London. Yesterday when I
went ben the house I found him sitting with JESS; to-day, he too, was
sitting with us on the pig-sty. There were tales told about him, that
he wrote for papers in London, and stuffed his vases and his pillows
with money, but TAMMAS HAGGART only shook his head at what he called
"such auld fowks' yeppins," and evidently didn't believe a single
word. Now TAMMAS, you must know, was our humorist. It was not without
difficulty that TAMMAS had attained to this position, and he was
resolved to keep it. Possibly he scented in the stranger a rival
humorist whom he would have to crush. At any rate, his greeting was
not marked with the usual genial cordiality characteristic of Scotch
weavers, and many were the anxious looks exchanged amongst us, as we
watched the preparations for the impending conflict.

CHAPTER III.

After TAMMAS had finished boring half-a-dozen holes in the old sow
with his sarcastic eye, he looked up, and addressed HENDRY MCQUMPHA.

"HENDRY," he said, "ye ken I'm a humorist, div ye no?"

HENDRY scratched the old sow meditatively, before he answered.

"Ou ay," he said, at length. "I'm no saying 'at ye're no a humorist.
I ken fine ye're a sarcesticist, but there's other humorists in the
world, am thinkin."

This was scarcely what TAMMAS had expected. HENDRY was usually one of
his most devoted admirers. There was an awkward silence which made me
feel uncomfortable. I am only a poor Dominie, but some of my happiest
hours had been passed on the pig-sty. Were these merry meetings to
come to an end? PETE took up the talking.

"HENDRY, my man," he observed, as he helped himself out of TAMMAS'S
snuff-mull, "ye're ower kyow-owy. Ye ken humour's a thing 'at spouts
out o' its ain accord, an' there's no nae spouter in Thrums 'at can
match wi' TAMMAS."

He looked defiantly at HENDRY, who was engaged in searching for
coppers in his north-east-by-east