“I daursay that was because the Hielan’man never had onything worth while to put in a pocket if he had yin. He hung his snuff-mull and his knife and fork ootside his claes, and kept his skean-dhu in his stockin’. . . “It’s a proof that weemen’s no’ richt ceevilised yet that they can be daein’, like the men I’m speakin’ aboot, withoot ony pooches. Jinnet tells me there’s nae pooch in a woman’s frock nooadays, because it wad spoil her sate on the bicycle. That’s the wye ye see weemen gaun aboot wi’ their purses in their haunds, and their bawbees for the skoosh car inside their glove, and their bonny wee watches that never gang because they’re never rowed up, hinging just ony place they’ll hook on to ootside their claes. “I was yince gaun doon to Whiteinch on a Clutha to see a kizzen o’ the wife’s, and Jinnet was wi’ me. Me bein’ caury-haunded, I got aff by mistake at Govan on the wrang side o’ the river, when Jinnet was crackin’ awa’ like a pen-gun wi’ some auld wife at the sherp end o’ the boat, and she didna see me. “‘Oh! Erchie!’ she says when she cam’ hame, ‘the time I’ve put in! I thocht ye wis drooned.’ “‘And ye hurried hame for the Prudential Insurance book, I suppose?’ says I. “‘No,’ says she, ‘but I made up my mind to hae a pooch o’ my ain efter this, if I merrit again, to haud my ain Clutha fares, and no’ be lippenin’ to onybody.’” XXII ERCHIE IN AN ART TEA-ROOM |I saw you and Duffy looking wonderfully smart in Sauchiehall Street on Saturday,” I said to Erchie one morning. “Man, were we no’?” replied the old man, with an amused countenance. “I must tell ye the pant we had. Ye’ll no’ guess where I had Duffy. Him and me was in thon new tea-room wi’ the comic windows. Yin o’ his horses dee’d on him, and he was doon the toon liftin’ the insurance for’t. I met him comin’ hame wi’ his Sunday claes on, and the three pound ten he got for the horse. He was that prood he was walkin’ sae far back on his heels that a waff o’ win’ wad hae couped him, and whustlin’ ‘Dark Lochnagar.’ “‘Come on in somewhere and hae something,’ says he, quite joco. “‘Not me,’ says I--’ I’m nane o’ the kind; a beadle’s a public man, and he disna ken wha may be lookin’ at him, but I’ll tell ye whit I’ll dae wi’ ye--I’ll tak’ ye into a tea-room.’ ‘A’ richt,’ says Duffy; ‘I’m game for a pie or onything.’ “And I took him like a lamb to the new place. When we came foment it, he glowered, and ‘Michty!’ says he, ‘wha did this?’ “‘Miss Cranston,’ says I. “‘Was she tryin’?’ says Duffy. “‘She took baith hands to’t,’ I tellt him. ‘And a gey smert wumman, too, if ye ask me.’ He stood five meenutes afore I could get him in, wi’ his een glued on the fancy doors. “Do ye hae to break yer wey in?’ says he. “‘No, nor in, I tells him; look slippy in case some o’ yer customers sees ye!’ “‘Och! I havena claes for a place o’ the kind,’ says he, and his face red.