“What! Jinnet?” I cried, amazed at my own obtuseness. “Jinnet of course,” said he. “Wha else wad it be if it wasna Jinnet? She’s the Rale Oreeginal.” XXV AMONG THE PICTURES |Whaur are ye gaun the day?” said Erchie to Duffy on Saturday afternoon when he came on the worthy coalman standing at his own close-mouth, looking up and down the street with the hesitation of a man who deliberates how he is to make the most of his Saturday half-holiday. “I was jist switherin’,” said Duffy. “Since I got mairried and stopped gaun to the Mull o’ Kintyre Vaults, there’s no’ much choice for a chap. I micht as weel be leevin’ in the country for a’ the life I see.” “Man, aye!” said Erchie, “that’s the warst o’ Gleska; there’s nae life in’t--naethin’ daein’. Ye should try yer hand at takin’ oot the wife for a walk, jist for the novelty o’ the thing.” “Catch me!” said Duffy. “She wad see ower mony things in the shop windows she was needin’. I was jist wonderin’ whether I wad buy a ‘Weekly Mail’ or gang to the fitba’ match at Parkheid.” Erchie looked pityingly at him. “A fitba’ match!” said he. “Whit’s the use o’ gaun to a fitba’ match when ye can see a’ aboot it in the late edeetion? Forbye, a fitba’ match doesna improve the mind; it’s only sport. I’ll tell ye whit I’ll dae wi’ ye if ye’re game. I’ll tak’ ye to the Art Institute; the minister gied me twa tickets. Awa’ and put on your collar and I’ll wait here on ye.” “Do ye need a collar for the gallery?” asked Duffy, who thought the Art Institute was a music-hall. On this point Erchie set him right, and ten minutes later, with a collar whose rough edges rasped his neck and made him unhappy, he was on his way to Sauchiehall Street. The band was playing a waltz tune as they entered the Institute. “Mind, I’m no’ on for ony dancin’,” Duffy explained. “I canna be bothered dancin’.” “There’s naebody gaun to ask ye to dance,” said Erchie. “Do you think there couldna be a baun’ playin’ withoot dancin’? It’s jist here to cod a lot o’ folk into the notion that they can be cheery enough in a place o’ the kind in spite o’ the pictures. And ye can get aifternoon tea here, too.” “I could be daein’ wi’ a gless o’ beer,” said Duffy.