he answered. 'Ye hae unco little
licht here! Hoo are ye a', gentlemen? I s' discover ye by degrees, and
pay my respecks accordin'.'

And he drew a chair to the table.

''Deed I wuss ye wad,' returned MacGregor, in a voice pretentiously
hushed, but none the less audible. 'There's a drap in yon en' o' the
hoose, Mr. Lammie.'

'Hoot! never min' the man,' said Lammie, looking round in the direction
indicated. 'I s' warran' he cares as little aboot hiz as we care aboot
him. There's nae treason noo a-days. I carena wha hears what I say.'

'For my pairt,' said Mr. Peddie, 'I canna help wonnerin' gin it cud be
oor auld frien' Mr. Faukener.'

'Speyk o' the de'il--' said Mr. Lammie.

'Hoot! na,' returned Peddie, interrupting. 'He wasna a'thegither the
de'il.'

'Haud the tongue o' ye,' retorted Lammie. 'Dinna ye ken a proverb whan
ye hear 't? De'il hae ye! ye're as sharpset as a missionar'. I was only
gaun to say that I'm doobtin' Andrew's deid.'

'Ay! ay!' commenced a chorus of questioning.

'Mhm!'

'Aaay!'

'What gars ye think that?'

'And sae he's deid!'

'He was a great favourite, Anerew!'

'Whaur dee'd he?'

'Aye some upsettin' though!'

'Ay. He was aye to be somebody wi' his tale.'

'A gude-hertit crater, but ye cudna lippen till him.'

'Speyk nae ill o' the deid. Maybe they'll hear ye, and turn roon' i'
their coffins, and that'll whumle you i' your beds,' said MacGregor,
with a twinkle in his eye.

'Ring the bell for anither tum'ler, Sampson,' said the chairman.

'What'll be dune wi' that factory place, noo? It'll be i' the market?'

'It's been i' the market for mony a year. But it's no his ava. It
belangs to the auld leddy, his mither,' said the weaver.

'Why don't you buy it, Mr. MacGregor, and set up a cotton mill? There's
not much doing with the linen now,' said Mr. Cocker.

'Me!' returned MacGregor, with indignation. 'The Lord forgie ye for
mintin' (hinting) at sic a thing, Mr. Cocker! Me tak' to coaton! I wad
as sune spin the hair frae Sawtan's hurdies. Short fushionless dirt,
that canna grow straucht oot o' the halesome yird, like the bonnie
lint-bells, but maun stick itsel' upo' a buss!--set it up! Coorse vulgar
stuff, 'at naebody wad weir but loup-coonter lads that wad fain luik
like gentlemen by means o' the collars and ruffles--an' a' comin' frae
the auld loom! They may weel affoord se'enteen hunner linen to set it
aff wi' 'at has naething but coaton inside the breeks o' them.'