“I’m no’ workin’. Canna get a job. Dae ye ken o’ onything?” “Na. What kin’ o’ job dae ye want?” “Onything,” said Willie, and added quickly, “An’ I’ll stick to it this time, if I get the chance.” After a short pause――――“My fayther got ye a job before,” said Macgregor. “I ken. But I wud stick――――” “Honest?” Willie drew his hand across his throat. “Weel,” said Macgregor, “I’ll tell ma fayther, an’ ye can gang an’ see him at the works on Monday.” “I’ll be there. Ye’re a dacent chap, Macgreegor.” Neither seemed to have anything more to say to the other, but their parting was cordial enough. Next day, Sunday, was wet and stormy, and there was no afternoon stroll of father and son to the docks. John was flattered by Macgregor’s ill-concealed disappointment――it was like old times. Perhaps he would not have been less flattered had he known his boy’s desire to tell him out of doors a thing that somehow could not be uttered in the house. Macgregor spent the afternoon in studying secretly an old price-list of Purdie’s Stores. The following night, while returning from the errand of previous nights, he again encountered Willie. “So may fayther’s gaun to gi’e ye a job. He tell’t me it was fixed.” “Ay,” said Willie, “but he canna tak’ me on for a fortnicht.” “Weel, that’s no lang to wait.” For a few seconds Willie was mute; then he blurted out――“I’m done for!” “Done for!” exclaimed Macgregor, startled by the despair in the other’s voice. “What’s wrang, Wullie?” “I’m in a mess. But it’s nae use tellin’ ye. Ye canna dae onything.” “Is’t horses?” Macgregor asked presently. “Naw, it’s no’ horses!” Willie indignantly replied. How virtuous we feel when accused of the one sin we have not committed! The next moment he clutched Macgregor’s arm. “Come in here, an’ I’ll tell ye.” He drew his companion into a close. “I――I couldna tell onybody else.” From the somewhat incoherent recital which followed Macgregor finally gathered that the old woman to whom Willie owed money had presented her ultimatum. If Willie failed to pay up that night she would assuredly not fail to apply to his aunt first thing in the morning. “Never heed, Wullie,” said Macgregor, taking his friend’s arm, and leading him homewards. “Yer aunt’ll no’ kill ye.” “I wish to――――she wud!” muttered Willie with a vehemence that shocked his friend. “She’s aye been ill to live wi’, but it’ll be a sight harder noo.” “Wud the auld wife no’ believe ye aboot gettin’ a job in a fortnicht? She wudna? Aweell, she’ll believe me. Come on, an’ I’ll speak to her for ye.” But the “auld wife” was adamant. She had been deceived with too many promises ere now. At last Macgregor, feeling himself beaten, disconsolately joined Willie and set out for home. Neither spoke until Macgregor’s abode was reached. Then Macgregor said: