One evening there was such a gathering¹ at the pig-sty that Hendry and I could not get a board to lay our backs against. Circumstances had pushed Pete Elshioner into the place of honour that belonged by right of mental powers to Tammas Haggart, and Tammas was sitting rather sullenly² on the bucket, boring a hole in the pig with his sarcastic³ eye. Pete was passing round a card, and in time it reached me. "With Mr. and Mrs. David Alexander's compliments," was printed on it, and Pete leered triumphantly⁴ at us as it went the round.  
"Weel, what think ye?" he asked, with a pretence⁵ at modesty⁶.
 
"Ou," said T'nowhead, looking at the others like one who asked a question, "ou, I think; ay, ay."
 
The others seemed to agree with him, all but Tammas, who did not care to tie himself down to an opinion.
 
"Ou ay," T'nowhead continued, more confidently, "it is so, deceededly."
 
"Ye'll no ken⁷," said Pete, chuckling⁸, "what it means?"
 
"Na," the farmer admitted, "na, I canna say I exac'ly ken that."
 
"I ken, though," said Tammas, in his keen way.
 
"Weel, then, what is't?" demanded Pete, who had never properly come under Tammas's spell.
 
"I ken," said Tammas.
 
"Oot wi't then."
 
"I dinna say it's lyin' on my tongue," Tammas replied, in a tone of reproof⁹, "but if ye'll juist speak awa aboot some other thing for a meenute or twa, I'll tell ye syne¹⁰."
 
Hendry said that this was only reasonable, but we could think of no subject at the moment, so we only stared at Tammas, and waited.
 
"I fathomed¹¹ it," he said at last, "as sune as my een lichted on't. It's one o' the bit cards 'at grand fowk slip 'aneath doors when they mak calls, an' their friends is no in. Ay, that's what it is."
 
"I dinna say ye're wrang," Pete answered, a little annoyed. "Ay, weel, lads, of course David Alexander's oor Dite as we called 'im, Dite Elshioner, an' that's his wy o' signifyin' to us 'at he's married."
 
"I assure ye," said Hendry, "Dite's doin' the thing in style."
 
"Ay, we said that when the card arrived," Pete admitted.
 
"I kent," said Tammas, "'at that was the wy grand fowk did when they got married. I've kent it a lang time. It's no nae surprise to me."
 
"He's been lang in marryin'," Hookey Crewe said.
 
"He was thirty at Martinmas," said Pete.
 
"Thirty, was he?" said Hookey. "Man, I'd buried twa wives by the time I was that age, an' was castin' aboot for a third."
 
"I mind o' them," Hendry interposed.
 
"Ay," Hookey said, "the first twa was angels." There he paused. "An' so's the third," he added, "in many respects."
 
"But wha's the woman Dite's ta'en?" T'nowhead or some one of the more silent members of the company asked of Pete.
 
"Ou, we dinna ken wha she is," answered Pete; "but she'll be some Glasca lassie, for he's there noo. Look, lads, look at this. He sent this at the same time; it's her picture." Pete produced the silhouette¹² of a young lady, and handed it round.
 
"What do ye think?" he asked.
 
"I assure ye!" said Hookey.
 
"Sal," said Hendry, even more charmed, "Dite's done weel."
 
"Lat's see her in a better licht,&qu............