Janet and Annie came up to me to-night. "Hullo!" I cried, "what\'s become of Ellen and Gladys and Jean?"

"We\'re no speakin\' to them," said Annie loftily.

"Cheeky things!" said Janet with scorn.

I became interested at once.

"Rivals in a love affair?" I asked.

They sniffed, and ignored the query.

"It was Jean," said Annie bitterly. "She went and telt the Mester that Aw spoke when he was oot o\' the room."

"Aye," said Janet, "she put doon my name tae. Wait er I get her at hame the nicht!"

I understood. Macdonald evidently favours the obnoxious practice of setting a bairn to spy on the others ... a silly thing to do.

"Aye," went on Annie, "and she called us navvies\' lasses!"

"And you replied?"

"Aw telt her to g\'wa hame and darn the hole in her stockin\'. \'Aye,\' Aw said, \'and ye can wash yer neck at the same time, Jean Broon!\'"

"But," I said, "Jean never has a dirty neck, Annie."

"Weel, what did she say that Aw was a navvy\'s lass for then?" she demanded indignantly.

[Pg 176]

"I\'m afraid that she has seen you speaking to navvies, Annie."

Annie became excited. She clutched Janet by the sleeve.

"Eh! What an insult!" she cried. "Janet Broon, div Aw speak to navvies?"

"Never in a\' yer life," said Janet firmly, "never wance ... unless yon day that the twa o\' them speered at ye the wye to the huts."

"But Aw didna answer," said Annie quickly; "Aw just pointed."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Sure as daith," she declared solemnly, and she cut her breath. "Aw maybe wud ha\' spoken," she admitted, "but Aw had a muckle lump o\' jaw-stickin\' toffee in my mooth, and Aw cudna speak supposin\' Aw had wanted to."

"Pointing was as bad as speaking," I said.

"If it was," said Annie tensely, "Jean never washes her neck. So there!"

They departed, and in half-an-hour the enemy came up. They sat in the bothy in silence for a time.

"Well," I said cheerily, "what\'s the news to-night?"

"We\'re fechtin\'," said Gladys, "fechtin\' wi\' Annie and Janet."

"What\'s it all about, eh?"

"The Mester gar me write doon the names o\' them that was speakin\'," blurted out Jean, "and Aw put doon their names."

[Pg 177]

"Yes," chimed in Ellen, "and syne they ca\'ed Jean a tramp, and said that the Mester gae her the job o\' writin\' doon the names cos she was sic a bad writer and needed practice."

"Aye," said Gladys, "and they telt me my mither got my pink frock dyed black when my faither deed."

"And it wasna her pink frock," cried Ellen; "it was her green ane."

"This is alarming," I said with concern. "But tell me, Jean, did you say anything to them?"

"Aw never said a word!"

"Not one word?"

"They cried to us that we was navvies\' dochters, and Aw just said: \'Aw wud rather be a navvy\'s dochter than the dochter o\' Annie Miller\'s faither onywye.\'"

"They telt Jean to wash her neck," said Gladys.

Jean smiled grimly.

"Aye, but they got mair than they bargained for! I just says to them, Aw says: \'Annie Miller, gang hame and tell yer faither to redd up his farm-yaird. Aye, and tell yer mither to wash yer heid ilka week instead o\' twice a year!\'"

"But," I protested, "Annie gets her hair washed every Saturday night!"

"And Aw get my neck washen ilka mornin\'!"

"All right, Jean, but you haven\'t told me what you said to Janet."

"Jan! I soon settled her! I just says to[Pg 178] her says Aw: \'Wha stailt the plums that mither brocht hame on Saturday nicht?\'"

"And did Jan steal the plums?" I asked.

"She did that!"

"And you never touched them?"

"No the plums," she said frankly; "Aw wasna sic a thief as that. Aw only took a wee corner o\' the fig toffee."

I scratched my head thoughtfully.

"This is a bonny racket, girls. I don\'t know what to make of it. I think you\'ll better make it up."

"Never!" cried Jean stoutly. "Ellen and Gladys and me\'s never to speak to them again; are\'n we no, Ellen?"

"Never!" cried Ellen.

"No if they were to gang doon on their bended knees!" declared Gladys.

"That\'s awkward for you, Jean," I said. "Do you mean to tell me that you won\'t speak to Jan when you are sleeping together?"

"Aw\'ll just gie her a dig in the ribs wi\' my elbow to mak her lie ower, but Aw\'ll no open my mooth."

"And what if your mother says to you: \'Jean, tell Janet to feed the hens?\'"

"Aw\'ll just hand her the corn-dish and point to the henhoose."

"And put oot my tongue at her," she added.

"Jean," I said suddenly, "I\'ll bet you a shilling that you are speaking to Jan and Annie by to-morrow night at four."

[Pg 179]

"Aw dinna hae a shillin\'," she said ruefully, "but Aw bet ye a hapenny Aw\'m no!"

*         *         *

To-night Jean came running up to me when school was dismissed.

"Gie\'s my hapenny!" she cried; "Aw didna speak to Annie and Janet a\' day!"

"Honest?"

"It\'s true," said Ellen, "isn\'t it Gladys?"

"Then I\'ll pay up my debt of honour," I said, and I held out a ha\'penny.

Jean took it, and then she set off round the steading in great haste. She returned with her arms round Janet and Annie.

"Aw got Bets Burnett to tell them aboot the ha\'penny," she confessed, "and to speer them no to speak to me a\' day and Aw wud gie them a bit o\' sugarelly."

"You scheming besom!" I cried and I laid her on my bothy table and sat on her.

"Eh! Jean!" said Gladys, "if only ye had said ye wud bet a shillin\'!"

"Dear me," I said hastily, "when I come to think of it I did bet a shilling. Jean bet a hapenny, but I distinctly remember saying that I was betting a shilling. Here you are, Jean!" but Jean refused it with indignation. Not one of them would touch it.

"Right!" I cried. "I\'m going down to get cigarettes. Who\'s coming?"

I spent a shilling on sweets and chocolate. No one would accept a single sweetie.

[Pg 180]

"I\'ll give myself toothache if I eat them," I said. They paid no heed.

"I won\'t invite one of you to my marriage if you don\'t take them." They wavered, but did not give way.

"All right," I said with an air of great determination, "here goes!" and I tossed the bag into the field. They made no sign of interest, and we walked up the brae. Jim Jackson was coming down with his milk.

"Jim," I began, "if you go down to that first gate, and look over the hedge you\'ll find—"

I got no farther.

"Come on!" cried Janet, "Aw dinna want them, but Jim Jackson\'s no to get them onywye!"

I was glad to note that they gave Jim a handful as he passed.

*         *         *

To-day was fair day, and the bairns all went to town. I cycled in in the afternoon, and took the girls on the hobby-horses. I also stood Jim Jackson and Dickie Gibson into the stirring drama entitled: "The Moaning Spirit of the Moat ... a Drama of the Supernatural." I had a few shies at the hairy-dolls, and won two cocoanuts and a gold tie-pin. Then I stood fascinated by the style of the gentleman who kept the ring stall. Several articles were hung from hooks, and you tried to throw a ring on to a hook. His invariable comment on a ploughman\'s attempt was: "Hard luck[Pg 181] for the alarum-clock! Give the gentleman a collar-stud."

About five o\'clock Jim came up to me.

"How now, duke," I said breezily, "how much money have you left?"

I was astonished to hear that he had half-a-crown.

"Why!" I cried, "you told me at three o\'clock that you had only ninepence left!"

He smiled enigmatically.

"Aw\'ve been speculatin\'," he said proudly. "Have ye seen the mannie that\'s sellin\' watches and things at the Cross? Aw was standin\' there wi\' Geordie Steel this mornin\', and the mannie speered if onybody wud gie him a penny for a shillin\', and naebody wud dae it at first. Syne a ploughman gae him a penny and he got the shillin\'. Syne the mannie speers again, and Geordie got a shillin\' for a ha\'penny. Syne he began to sell watches, and the first man that bocht a watch got his money back. Syne he held up a gold chain, and the man that bocht that he got his money back. Syne he held up anither gold chain and said he wud sell it for half-a-crown. So Geordie ups and hauds oot his half-croon, and it was a\' t............