hand--a gey clorty ane it was--on
the coonter, an' stanin' on ae fit, he says--"Isyin?"

"Wha micht he be?" says I.

"Sandy," said the captain.

"What Sandy?" says I.

"No," said ane o' the birkies ahent; "your Sandy--Sandy Bowden."

"Ay, he's in," says I; "but you shud mind an' gie fowk their richt
names when ye're seeking them. Ye micht hae smeddum enough to say
Mester Bowden, or Alexander Bowden. Your teacher michta tell't ye
that."

I gaed awa' doon the yaird to get Sandy, an' juist as I was gaen oot at
the back door I heard ane o' the sackets sayin', "What's she chatterin'
aboot? She ca's him Sandy hersel'; I've heard her of'en." Did ever ye
hear what impident young fowk's gettin' noo-a-days? It's raley
terriple. When I was young, if I'd sen the like o' that, I'd gotten a
smack i' the side o' the heid that wudda garred the wa' tak's anither.

"Oo, ay," says Sandy, when I tell't him. "That'll be the lads frae the
Callyfloor C.C. They said they were mibby genna look yont the nicht."

He cam' up an' took the loons to the back shop, an' I heard them sayin'
they wantit him to be empire at their match wi' the second eleven o'
the Collie Park. There was a fell kurn fowk cam' into the shop, an' I
didna hear nae mair; but efter a whilie Sandy cam' to the door wi' the
laddies, an', gien his hand a wave, he says to them, as they were gaen
awa, "A' richt than; three sharp; I'll do my best."

"What's this noo?" says I. "Nae mair o' yer fitba' pliskies, I howp."

"Oh no," says Sandy. "That's a deputation frae the Callyfloor C.C. I
gae them a tume orange box a week or twa syne to haud their bats an'
wickets, an' they made me their pattern."

"A gey queer pattern," says I, wi' a lauch. "Faigs, Sandy, if they
shape themselves efter your pattern, their mithers an' wives--if ever
they get that len'th--'ill lose a hankie o' sleep wi' them, I'm
thinkin'."

"Auch, Bawbie, ye're juist haverin' like some auld aipplewife," says
Sandy. "That's no' the kind o' pattern I mean;" an' awa' he gaed for
the _Herald_ an' turned up a bit noos I never noticed, sayin' that
"Alexander Bowden, Esq., had been elected patron of the Cauliflower
C.C., and had contributed handsomely to the funds of the club."

"Oo ay! I see," says I. "An' what did you handsomely gie to the funds
o' the club?"

"O, that's juist the orange box," says Sandy. "But they want me for
empire the morn's efternune. They're genna play the second eleve