esty old gentleman, who was economically
travelling by third-class, 'there are only three seats vacant. The rest
of the train is nearly empty. Hi, guard! station-master, hi!'

'A' _freens_ here,' repeated Merton stolidly, taking his whisky bottle
from his greatcoat pocket. Two of the roughs had entered, but the guard
persuaded the other two that they must bestow themselves elsewhere. The
old gentleman glared at Merton, who was standing up, the cork of the
bottle between his teeth, as the train began to move. He staggered and
fell back into his seat.

'We are na fou, we're no _that_ fou,'

Merton chanted, directing his speech to the old gentleman,

'But just a wee drap in oor 'ee!'

'The curse of Scotland,' muttered the old gentleman, whether with
reference to alcohol or to Robert Burns, is uncertain.

'The Curse o' Scotland,' said Merton, 'that's the nine o' diamonds. I
hae the cairts on me, maybe ye'd take a hand, sir, at Beggar ma Neebour,
or Catch the Ten? Ye needna be feared, a can pay gin I lose.' He
dragged out his cards, and a handful of silver.

The rough customers between whom Merton was sitting began to laugh
hoarsely. The old gentleman frowned.

'I shall change my carriage at the next station,' he said, 'and I shall
report you for gambling.'

'A' freens!' said Merton, as if horrified by the austere reception of his
cordial advances. 'Wha's gaumlin'? We mauna play, billies, till he's
gane. An unco pernicketty auld carl, thon ane,' he remarked, _sotto
voce_. 'But there's naething in the Company's by-laws again
refraishments,' Merton added. He uncorked his bottle, made a pretence of
sucking at it, and passed it to his neighbours, the rough customers. They
imbibed with freedom.

The carriage was very dark, the lamp 'moved like a moon in a wane,' as
Merton might have quoted in happier circumstances. The rough customers
glared at him, but his cap had a peak, and he wore his comforter high.

'Man, ye're the kind o' lad I like,' said one of the rough customers.

'A' freens!' said Merton, again applying himself to the bottle, and
passing it. 'Ony ither gentleman tak' a sook?' asked Merton, including
all the passengers in his hospitable glance. 'Nane o' ye dry?

'Oh! fill yer ain glass,
And let the jug pass,
Hoo d'ye ken but yer neighbour's dry?'

Merton carolled.

'Thon's no a Scotch lilt,' remarked one of the roughs.

'A ken it's Irish,' said Merton. '