I put down my piece of bread and looked across the room in wonder to see that three of the men were gazing intently at myself. The fourth was hid by those in front of him; the fifth that had spoken had a tartan waistcoat and eyes that were like a gled's, though they were not on me. In spite of that, 'twas plain that of me he spoke, and that I was the object of some speculation among them. No one that has not been lonely in a foreign town, and hungered for communion with those that know his native tongue, can guess how much I longed for speech with this compatriot that in dress and eye and accent brought back the place of my nativity in one wild surge of memory. Every bawbee in my pocket would not have been too much to pay for such a privilege, but it might not be unless the overtures came from the persons in the corner. Very deliberately, though all in a commotion within, I ate my piece and drank my wine before the stare of the three men, and at last, on the whisper of one of them, another produced a box of dice. “No, no!” said the man with the tartan waistcoat hurriedly, with a glance from the tail of his eye at me, but they persisted in their purpose and began to throw. My countryman in tartan got the last chance, of which he seemed reluctant to avail himself till the one unseen said: “_Vous avez le de'_, Kilbride.” Kilbride! the name was the call of whaups at home upon the moors! He laughed, shook, and tossed carelessly, and then the laugh was all with them, for whatever they had played for he had seemingly lost and the dice were now put by. He rose somewhat confused, looked dubiously across at me with a reddening face, and then came over with his hat in his hand. “Pardon, Monsieur,” he began; then checked the French, and said: “Have I a countryman here?” “It is like enough,” said I, with a bow and looking at his tartan. “I am from Scotland myself.” He smiled at that with a look of some relief and took a vacant chair on the other side of my small table. “I have come better speed with my impudence,” said he in the Hielan' accent, “than I expected or deserved. My name's Kilbride--MacKellar of Kilbride--and I am here with another Highland gentleman of the name of Grant and two or three French friends we picked up at the door of the play-house. Are you come off the Highlands, if I make take the liberty?” “My name is lowland,” said I, “and I hail from the shire of Renfrew.” “Ah,” said he, with a vanity that was laughable. “What a pity! I wish you had been Gaelic, but of course you cannot help it being otherwise, and indeed there are many estimable persons in the lowlands.” “And a great wheen of Highland gentlemen very glad to join them there too,” said I, resenting the implication. “Of course, of course,” said he heartily. “There is no occasion for offence.”