"Between oorsel’s, as his freen’s," said Menzies, with a laugh, "he’s no’ easy to please when he tak’s a thraw! But maybe we’re as muckle to blame as him." "That bird," remarked Smellie, as he poked up his almost extinguished fire, "has played a’ the mischief! Could we no’ get it decently oot o’ the way yet, Mr. Menzies?" "What d’ye mean, neebour?" asked Menzies, looking puzzled. "Weel, I’ll tell ye," replied the draper. "The Sergeant and me, ye ken, cast oot; but you and him, as well as the wife, are freendly. Noo, what do ye say to seeing them in a freendly way; and as the Sergeant is in bed----" "They say it’s fivver," interrupted Menzies, "and may come to be verra dangerous." "Weel a-weel," said Smellie, "in that case what I propose micht be easier dune: the wife micht gie you the bird, for peace’ sake--for conscience’ sake--for her guidman’s sake--and ye micht do awa’ wi’t, and the Sergeant ken naething about it; for, ye see, being an auld sodger, he’s prood as prood can be; and Mr. Porteous wad be satisfied, and maybe, for peace’ sake, wad never speer hoo it was dune, and we wad hae a guid excuse for sayin’ nae mair about it in the Session. If the Sergeant dee’d, nae hairm would be done; if he got weel, he wad be thankfu’ that the stramash was a’ ower, and himsel’ restored, wi’oot being pit aboot for his bird. Eh?" "I wadna like to meddle wi’ the cratur," said Menzies, shaking his head. "But, man, do ye no’ see," argued Smellie, "that it wad stultify yersel’ tae refuse doing what is easier for you than for him? Hoo can ye, as a member o’ Session, blame him for no’ killing a pet o’ his dead bairn, if ye wadna kill it as a strange bird?" "Can _ye_ no’ kill’t then?" asked Menzies. "I wad hae nae difficulty in doing that--nane," said Smellie, "but they wadna trust me, and wadna lippen to me; but they wad trust _you_. It’s surely your duty, Mr. Menzies, to do this, and mair, for peace." "Maybe," said Menzies. "Yet it’s a cruel job. I’m sweir tae meddle wi’t. I’ll think aboot it." "Ay," said Smellie, putting his hand on his shoulder; "an’ ye’ll do’t, too, when ye get the opportunity--I dinna bid ye kill’t, that needna be; but jist tae let it flee awa’--that’s the plan! Try’t. I’m awfu’ keen to get this job by, and this stane o’ offence oot o’ the road. But mind, ye’ll never, never let on I bade ye, or it will blaw up the mercifu’ plan. Will ye keep a quiet sough aboot me, whatever ye do? And, moreover, never breathe a word about the auld poaching business; I hae reasons for this, Mr. Menzies--reasons."