t o'clock, for I was juist sittin' on heckle-pins thinkin'
ilka meenit Sandy wud be comin' thrash in on's, roarin' he'd set the
parafin cask afeyre. I was gled when I got hame an' fand a'thing in
winderfu' order; although Sandy was gien Nathan coosies i' the shop
jumpin' ower the coonter wi' ane o' his hands in his pooch. It's juist
his wey, the cratur. He canna help it.

"Was the tinkler wife here when you cam' back?" I said to Sandy.

"Oo, ay," says he. "I gae her her ceenimin."

"There wudna be muckle profit oot o' that transaction, efter deduckin'
the pileeceman's tippence," I says, says I. "Hoo did ye no' juist say
that the grund ceenimin was a' dune?"

"'Cause that wudda been a lee," said Sandy.

"Weel, ye cud sen ye didna ken whaur it was," says I.

"That wudda lookit ridic'lous, an' me the mester o' the shop," said
Sandy.

"Weel, but d'ye no' see that it was ridic'lous to gie a pileeceman
tippence to watch a tinkler wife that wantit only a bawbee's-wirth o'
grund ceenimin," I says gey sharp till him.

"Better g'ie the pileeceman tippence than tak' the cratur afore the
shirra for stealin', an' mibby hae the toon peyin' a lot o' bawbees for
keepin' her in the gyle, forby railroad tickets for her and twa peelars
up to Dundee. That wudda been fully mair gin tippence," said Sandy.

Argeyin' wi' Sandy's juist like chasin' a whitterit in a drystane dyke.
When ye think you have him at ae hole, he juist pops throo anither.
Tach! When he's in thae argey-bargeyin' strums o' his, I canna be
bathered wi' him!

VI.

SANDY'S SECOND LESSON IN GEOMETRY.

Wi' a' his foiterin' weys, there's a winderfu' speerit o' independence
aboot Sandy, d'ye ken? He disna care aboot being dawtit by onybody,
especially by folk he disna like. Juist the ither day, for instance,
Sandy was jumpin' doon aff the fore-end o' his cairt. His fit had
tickled in aboot the britchin somewey, an' he cam' lick doon on the
braid o' his back i' the gutter. The bobby was stanin' juist ower the
road at the time, an' cam' rinnin' across wi' his moo wide open.

"Keep me, Sandy, cratur," he says, "what's happen'd? Did you fa' aff
the cairt?"

"G'wa an' mind your ain bizness," says Sandy, jumpin' up, an' gien
himsel' a shak. "The cairt's my nain; I can come doon afen't ony wey I
like."

The bobby gaed awa' rubbin' his chin. "Dod," he saya to Stumpie Mertin
at the corner o' the street "that man Bowden's the queerest jeeger ever
I