"Pinkham immediately called the youngsters in from the nursery. 'Guess what I've got,' I said, opening the package of rock-candy. 'Gee!' cried Billie, as it caught his eye. 'Gimme some!' 'Who gets first piece?' said I. 'Me!' cried both. 'Anybody ever had any before?' I asked. 'He has,' said Polly, pointing to Billie. The boy immediately flushed up. ''Ain't, neither!' he retorted. 'Yes you did, too,' said Polly. '_You swallered that piece pop left on the centre-table the other night!_' 'Well, anyhow, it was only a little piece,' said Billie. 'An' it tasted like glass,' he added. Handing the candy to Polly, I picked Billie up and carried him to his father. "'Mr. Pinkham,' said I, handing the boy over, 'here is your diamond. It has not been stolen; it has merely been swallowed.' 'What?' he cried. And I explained. The stud mystery was explained. Mr. Pinkham's boy had eaten it." Holmes paused. "Well, I don't see how that proves your point," said I. "You said that it was the little things that told--" "So it was," said Holmes. "If Polly hadn't told--" "Enough," I cried; "it's on me, old man. We will go down to Willis's and have some Russian caviare and a bottle of Burgundy." Holmes put on his hat and we went out together. It is to get the money to pay Willis's bill that I have written this story of "The Mystery of Pinkham's Diamond Stud." XI LANG TAMMAS AND DRUMSHEUGH SWEAR OFF _A tale of dialect told by Mr. Berkeley Hights, holder of the twelfth ball_ "Hoot mon!" The words rang out derisively on the cold frosty air of Drumtochty, as Lang Tammas walked slowly along the street, looking for the residence of Drumsheugh. The effect was electrical. Tammas stopped short, and turning about, scanned the street eagerly to see who it was that had spoken. But the highway was deserted, and the old man shook his stick, as if at an imaginary foe. "I'll hoot-mon the dour eediot that's eensoolted a veesitor to Drumtochty!" he shouted. "I haena brought me faithfu' steck for naething!" he added. He glared about, now at this closed window, now at that, as if inviting his enemy to come forth and be punished, but seeing no signs of life, turned again to resume his walk, muttering angrily to himself. It was indeed hardly to be tolerated that he, one of the great characters of fiction, should be thus jeered at, as he thought, while on a friendly pilgrimage from Thrums to Drumtochty, the two rival towns in the affections of the consumers of modern letters; and having walked all the way from his home at Thrums, Lang Tammas was tired, and therefore in no mood to accept even a mild affront, much less an insult. He had scarcely covered ten paces, however, when the same voice, with a harsh cackling laugh, again broke the stillness of the street: "Gang awa', gang awa'--ha, ha, ha!" Tammas rushed into the middle of the way and picked up a stone. [Illustration: "'HOOT MON!'"]