"O' Thrums?" cried Drumsheugh. "Nane ither," said Tammas. Drumsheugh burst into an uproarious fit of laughter. "The humorist?" he cried, catching his sides. "Nane ither," said Tammas, gravely. "And wha are ye?" "Me? Oh, I'm--Drumsheugh o' Drumtochty," he replied. "Come along hame wi' me. I'll gie ye that to make the eensoolt seem a compliment." And the two old men walked off together. An hour later, on their way to the kirk, Drumsheugh observed that after the service was over he would go with Lang Tammas and seek out the man who had insulted him and "gie" him a drubbing, which invitation Tammas was nothing loath to accept. Reverently the two new-made friends walked into the kirk and sat themselves down on the side aisle. A hymn was sung, and the minister was about to read from the book, when the silence of the church was broken by a shrill voice: "Hoot mon! Hoot mon!" Tammas clutched his stick. The voice was the same, and here it had penetrated the sacred precincts of the church! Nowhere was he safe from insult. Drumsheugh looked up, startled, and the voice began again: "Gang awa' a-that, a-that, a-that--gang awa'! Oh, ye crittur! oh, ye cow!" And then a titter ran through that solemn crowd; for, despite the gravity of the situation, even John Knox himself must have smiled. A great green parrot had flown in at one of the windows, and had perched himself on the pulpit, where, with front undismayed, he addressed the minister: "Gang awa', gang awa'!" he cried, and preened himself. "Hoot mon, gang awa'!" "_Knox nobiscum!_" ejaculated Drumsheugh. "It's Moggie McPiggert's pairrut," and he chuckled; and then, as Lang Tammas realized the situation, even he smiled broadly. He had been insulted by a parrot only, and the knowledge of it made him feel better. The bird was removed and the service proceeded; and later, when it was over, as the two old fellows walked back to Drumsheugh's house in the gathering shades of the night, Lang Tammas said: "I acquet Drumtochty o' its eensoolts, Drumsheugh, but I've lairnt a lesson this day." "What's that?" asked Drumsheugh. "When pairruts speak Scutch deealect, it's time we Scuts gae it oop," said Tammas. "I think so mysel'," agreed Drumsheugh. "But hoo express our thochts?" "I dinna ken for ye," said Lang Tammas, "but for me, mee speakee heathen Chinee this timee on." "Vairy weel," returned Drumsheugh. "Vairy weel; I dinna ken heathen Chinee, but I hae some acqueentance wi' the tongue o' sairtain Amairicans, and that I'll speak from this day on--it's vairy weel called the Bowery eediom, and is a judeecious mixture o' English, Irish, and Volapeck." And from that time on Lang Tammas and Drumsheugh spoke never another word of Scotch dialect; and while Tammas never quite mastered pidgin-English, or Drumsheugh the tongue of Fadden, they lived happily ever after, which in a way proves that, after all, the parrot is a useful as well as an ornamental bird. XII CONCLUSION--LIKEWISE MR. BILLY JONES