settlement o’ his bill. The fiddle-case wis a thing I hadna
muckle use for mysel’—no havin’ a musical ear; though efter
Willie Warstle, my bursar laddie, cam’ hame, I found it unco
handy for keepin’ his white shirts and collars in. Weel, what
do you think, ae day as I wis traikin’ through the shops
in Sauchiehall Street, wi’ the leg o’ a sock that needit fittin in
my bag, in search o’ yairn to match, wha should I meet hut the
owner o’ this same fiddle-case wi’ a guid sonsy, red-faced leddy
on his airm. I wis perfect dumfoonert wi’ surprise, for I never
thocht to see him again on this side o’ time. He had on a guid
black coat, besides a white neckcloth, and lookit sae sedate that
you wud have thocht butter wudna melt in his mooth, as the
sayin’ is. Weel, as he cracket quite sober and solemn-like, I
fand oot that he wis minister o’ the Parish o Drumsynie, and
that his wife wis the dochter o’ a rich cattle-drover i’ the toon
o’ the same name, whose family wis weel kent by my faither.
She wis gey rouch and out-spoken for a minister’s wife, and
interfered wi’ the crack in a wye that I thocht wis mair
maisterfu’ than modest. In truth, I didna like the wumman ;
but that is neither here nor there.
Efter a wee I turned on my heel wi’ them, and we gaed west thegither. Weel, the talk proceeded on, but there wisna a word aboot the bill. Thinks I, “My gentleman, I’ve gien ye a guid chance to speak first; ” but kennin’ hoo treacherous the memory is aboot money obligations, I broke the ice, and speered when he wis gaun to send for the fiddle-case.
Wi’ that he gaed me a nudge on the side wi’ his elbow, and a look as much as to say “ Dinna name the thing before her!’
“Ah,” says he, unco sanctimonious like, “Mistress Spreull, college life is a light-hearted time—a time of queer antics and thoughtless extravagance.”
“ Nae doot,” auoth I, “ nae doot”—for I had min’ o’ the nicht
