“Duffy had on a surtoo coat, and looked for, a’ the warld like Macmillan, the undertaker, on a chape job. He got the lend o’ the surtoo frae yin o’ the men aboot the Zoo, and he was aye tryin’ to put his haunds in the ootside pooches and them no’ there. ‘Oh, Erchie,’ he says to me, ‘I wish I had on my jaicket again, this is no’ canny. They’ll a’ be lookin’ at my haunds.’ ‘No, nor yer feet,’ I tellt him; ‘they’ll be ower busy keepin’ their e’e on whit they’re gaun to get to eat.’ ‘If ye only kent it,’ says he, ‘my feet’s a torment to me, for my buits is far ower sma’.’ And I could see the puir sowl sweatin’ wi’ the agony. “The bride looked fine. Jinnet nearly grat when she saw her comin’ in, and said it minded her o’ hersel’ the day she was mairried. ‘Ye’re just haverin’,’ I tellt her, gey snappy. ‘She couldna look as nice as you did that day if she was hung wi’ jewels.’ But I’ll no’ say Leezie wasna nice enough--a fine, big, sonsy, smert lass, wi’ her face as glossy as onything. “When the operation was by, and the minister had gane awa’ hame, us pressin’ him like onything to wait a while langer, and almost breakin’ his airms wi’ jammin’ his top-coat on him fast in case he micht change his mind, we a’ sat down to a high tea that wad dae credit to F. & F.’s. If there was wan hen yonder there was haulf a dizzen, for the bride had a hale lot o’ country freen’s, and this is the time o’ the year the hens is no’ layin’. “There were thirty-five folk sat doon in Duffy’s hoose that nicht, no’ coontin’ a wheen o’ the neighbours that stood in the lobby and took their chance o’ whit was passin’ frae the kitchen. Duffy hadna richt started carvin’ the No. 6 hen when a messenger cam’ to the door to ask for the surtoo coat, because the man in the Zoo had his job changed for that nicht and found he needed the coat for his work; so Duffy was quite gled to get rid of it, and put on his Sunday jaicket. ‘Ask him if he wadna like a wee lend o’ my new tight boots,’ he says to the messenger frae the Zoo; ‘if he does, come back as fast’s ye can for them, and I’ll pay the cab.’ “Efter the high tea was by, the Ardentinny man never asked onybody’s leave, but began to tune his pipes, stoppin’ every twa or three meenutes to bounce aboot the player he was, and that his name was M’Kay--yin o’ the auld clan M’Kays. Macrae, the nicht polis, was awfu’ chawed that he brocht him there at a’. Ye couldna hear yersel’ speakin’ for the tunin’ o’ the pipes, and they werena nearly half ready for playin’ on when the bride’s mither took the liberty o’ stoppin’ him for a wee till we wad get a sang frae somebody.