"I'm sure, Jessie," she said, "you're ill to please. Who'd ever mind a smell of cooking in the house? And a nice tasty smell like sausages, too." "It's such a common sort of smell in the evening," went on Jessie. "I wish we had late dinner. The Simpsons have it, and Muriel says it makes you feel quite different; more refined." "Muriel Simpson's daft," put in Alick; "Ewan says it's her that's put his mother up to send him to an English school. He doesn't want to be made English." "It's to improve his accent," said Jessie. "Yours is something awful." Alick laughed derisively and began to speak in a clipt and mincing fashion which he believed to be "English." "Alick! Stop it," said his mother. "Don't aggravate your sister." Jessie tossed her head. "He's not aggravating me, he's only making a fool of himself." "Papa," said Alick, appealing to his father, "sure the English are awful silly." Mr. Thomson's mouth was full, but he answered peaceably, "They haven't had our advantages, Alick, but they mean well." "They mebbe mean well," said Alick, "but they _sound_ gey daft." Robert had been eating and reading at the same time and paying no attention to the conversation, but he now passed in his cup to his mother and asked, "Who's all coming to-night?" "Well," said his mother, lifting the "cosy" from the teapot, "they're mostly Jessie's friends. Some of them I've never seen." "I wish, Mamma," said Jessie, "that you hadn't made me ask the Hendrys and the Taylors. The Hendrys are so dowdy-looking, and Mr. Taylor's awful common." "Indeed, Jessie," her mother retorted, "I wonder to hear you. The Hendrys are my oldest friends, and decenter women don't live; and as for Mr. Taylor, I'm sure he's real joky and a great help at an 'evening.'" "He'll wear his velveteen coat," said Robert. "I dare say," said Jessie. "Velveteen coat indeed: D'you know what he calls it?--his 'splush jaicket.'" "Taylor's a toffy wee body," said Mr. Thomson "but a good Christian man. He's been superintendent of the Sabbath school for twenty years and he's hardly ever missed a day. Is that all from the Church, Mamma? You didn't think of asking the M'Roberts or the Andersons?" "Oh, Papa!" said Jessie, sitting back helplessly. "What's the matter with them, Jessie?" asked Mr. Thomson. "Are they not good enough for you?" "Uch, Papa, it's not that. But I want this to be a nice party like the Simpsons give. They never have their parties spoiled by dowdy-looking people. It all comes of going to such a poor church. I don't say Mr. Seton's not as good as anybody, but the people in the church are no class; hardly one of them keeps a girl. I don't see why we can't go to a church in Pollokshields where there's an organ and society." "Never heed her," broke in Mrs. Thomson; "she's a silly girl. Another sausage, Papa?" "No, Mamma. No, thanks."