"Better than three miles," he replied; and, looking back on our return, my conviction is that it is considerably worse than three miles. I remembered my determination to take nothing before going; but Stewart had the "tastin'" poured out, so I took it, thinking I would walk it off. We met about a dozen gentlemen at Maclean's, and had a splendid dinner, and I had to revoke my decision in favour of the wines set before us. "When do we meet?" I asked of the gentleman next me. "At eight," he replied. "And how can we be expected to dine again at eight?" He laughed, evidently at my simplicity. "We havena time for denner on a Burns night," he said. "The haggis is just put round for the look o' the thing." I now understood more fully the awkwardness of a Saturday night. Looking back on Friday night, I find my memory a little more vague than usual: for instance, I should have mentioned that we made two calls on the way to Maclean's. As we approached the town, Stewart said, "This is Young's hoose; he's gaun; we'll just look in for him." "I was just on the look-out for ye," said that gentleman. [Illustration: THE BRIG O' DOON _By J. Marjoribanks Hay_] "Nothing for me, thank you," I said, seeing him lay down three glasses, and remembering my determination. Mr. Young evidently did not hear me; and when I saw him filling the third glass, I thought I would just taste, as the people here are very touchy on the point of hospitality. So I said, "That'll do for me, thank you; thanks, thanks, thanks." By this time my glass was the same as the rest. So I had to console myself by thinking I would be none the worse of it after the journey. "We're to look in for Calder on the road," said Mr. Young. Calder was in his office, and after a few words he raised his eyebrows with a look of interrogation, and pointed with his head in a direction evidently understood by his companions, for Stewart, in reply to the unasked question, said, "Oh, I don't know if it's worth while." It was evidently thought worth while, however, for we proceeded to a small room in the back of the premises, and Mr. Calder said, "Weel, what is't to be, then?"--a stupid question I have noticed almost invariably asked, as the answer is always the same: "Oh, just the auld thing; it's the safest." "Help yersels, then," said Calder, "the time I'm putting on my coat." Stewart assisted, asking us to "say when," and, perhaps through force of habit, he addressed himself while taking his own allowance, as if some one were giving him more than he wanted and he was remonstrating. "Hoot-toot-toot!" he said, but he did not pour any back.