“Ye'll no tell Bell that?” he asked, anxiously. “Tell her what?” “Aboot me an' Mysy.” “We'll see hoo ye behave yersel, Sam'l.” “No 'at I care, Eppie; ye can tell her gin ye like. I widna think twice o' tellin' her mysel.” “The Lord forgie ye for leein', Sam'l,” said Eppie, as he disappeared down Tammy Tosh's close. Here he came upon Henders Webster. “Ye're late, Sam'l,” said Henders. “What for?” “Ou, I was thinkin' ye wid be gaen the length o' T'nowhead the nicht, an' I saw Sanders Elshioner makkin's wy there an oor syne.” “Did ye?” cried Sam'l, adding craftily, “but it's naething to me.” “Tod, lad,” said Henders, “gin ye dinna buckle to, Sanders'll be carryin' her off.” Sam'l flung back his head and passed on. “Sam'l!” cried Henders after him. “Ay,” said Sam'l, wheeling round. “Gie Bell a kiss frae me.” The full force of this joke struck neither all at once. Sam'l began to smile at it as he turned down the school-wynd, and it came upon Henders while he was in his garden feeding his ferret. Then he slapped his legs gleefully, and explained the conceit to Will'um Byars, who went into the house and thought it over. There were twelve or twenty little groups of men in the square, which was lit by a flare of oil suspended over a cadger's cart. Now and again a staid young woman passed through the square with a basket on her arm, and if she had lingered long enough to give them time, some of the idlers would have addressed her. As it was, they gazed after her, and then grinned to each other. “Ay, Sam'l,” said two or three young men, as Sam'l joined them beneath the town-clock. “Ay, Davit,” replied Sam'l. This group was composed of some of the sharpest wits in Thrums, and it was not to be expected that they would let this opportunity pass. Perhaps when Sam'l joined them he knew what was in store for him. “Was ye lookin' for T'nowhead's Bell, Sam'l?” asked one. “Or mebbe ye was wantin' the minister?” suggested another, the same who had walked out twice with Chirsty Duff and not married her after all. Sam'l could not think of a good reply at the moment, so he laughed good-naturedly. “Ondootedly she's a snod bit crittur,” said Davit, archly. “An' michty clever wi' her fingers,” added Jamie Deuchars. “Man, I've thocht o' makkin' up to Bell mysel,” said Pete Ogle. “Wid there be ony chance, think ye, Sam'l?” “I'm thinkin' she widna hae ye for her first, Pete,” replied Sam'l, in one of those happy flashes that come to some men, “but there's nae sayin' but what she micht tak ye to finish up wi'.” The unexpectedness of this sally startled every one. Though Sam'l did not set up for a wit, however, like Davit, it was notorious that he could say a cutting thing once in a way. “Did ye ever see Bell reddin' up?” asked Pete, recovering from his overthrow. He was a man who bore no malice. “It's a sicht,” said Sam'l, solemnly. “Hoo will that be?” asked Jamie Deuchars.