Oh, thankee, good dame, here's my purse and my thimble; A fig for Poll Ady and fat Sukey Wimble; I now could jump over the steeple so nimble; With joy I be ready to cry." TOM, as _Mother Patrico_. "William shall Be rich and great; And shall prove A constant mate. Thank not me, But thank your fate, On whose high Decrees I wait." "Well, won't that do? won't it bring the house down? I'm going to send for dresses to London, and we'll start next week." "What, on the tramp, singing these songs?" "Yes; we'll begin in some out-of-the-way place till we get used to it." "And end in the lock-up, I should say," said Tom; "it'll be a good lark, though. Now, you haven't told me how you got home." "Oh, we left camp at about five--" "The tinker having extracted a sovereign from Drysdale," interrupted Blake. "What did you give to the little gypsy yourself?" retorted Drysdale; "I saw your adieus under the thorn-bush.--Well, we got on all right to old Murdock's, at Kingston Inn, by about seven, and there we had dinner; and after dinner the old boy came in. He and I are great chums, for I'm often there, and always ask him in. But that beggar Blake, who never saw him before, cut me clean out in five minutes. Fancy his swearing he is Scotch, and that an ancestor of his in the sixteenth century married a Murdock!" "Well, when you come to think what a lot of ancestors one must have had at that time, it's probably true," said Blake. "At any rate, it took," went on Drysdale. "I thought old Murdock would have wept on his neck. As it was, he scattered snuff enough to fill a pint pot over him out of his mull, and began talking Gaelic. And Blake had the cheek to jabber a lot of gibberish back to him, as if he understood every word." "Gibberish! it was the purest Gaelic," said Blake laughing. "I heard a lot of Greek words myself," said Drysdale; "but old Murdock was too pleased at hearing his own clapper going, and too full of whisky, to find him out." "Let alone that I doubt whether he remembers more than about five words of his native tongue himself," said Blake. "The old boy got so excited that he went up stairs for his plaid and dirk, and dressed himself up in them, apologising that he could not appear in the full grab of old Gaul, in honor of his new-found relative, as his daughter had cut up his old kilt for 'trews for the barnies' during his absence from home. Then they took to more toddy and singing Scotch songs, till at eleven o'clock they were standing on their chairs, right hands clasped, each with one foot on the table, glasses in the other hands, the toddy flying over the room as they swayed about roaring like maniacs, what was it?--oh, I have it: 'Wug-an-toorey all agree, Wug-an-toorey, wug-an-toorey.'" "He hasn't told you that he tried to join us, and tumbled over the back of his chair into the dirty-plate basket."