a' but the mou' o' me; but I was haudin' my fiddle up abune my heid,
and de'il a spark o' watter was upo' her.'

'It's a pity yer wife wasna yer fiddle, than, Sanny,' said Robert,
with more presumption than wit.

''Deed ye're i' the richt, there, Robert. Hae, tak' yer fiddle.'

''Deed no,' returned Robert. 'I maun jist lippen (trust) to ye,
Sanders. I canna bide langer the nicht; but maybe ye'll tell me hoo
to haud her the neist time 'at I come--will ye?'

'That I wull, Robert, come whan ye like. An' gin ye come o' ane 'at
cud play this fiddle as this fiddle deserves to be playt, ye'll do
me credit.'

'Ye min' what that sumph Lumley said to me the ither nicht, Sanders,
aboot my grandfather?'

'Ay, weel eneuch. A dish o' drucken havers!'

'It was true eneuch aboot my great-grandfather, though.'

'No! Was't railly?'

'Ay. He was the best piper in 's regiment at Culloden. Gin they had
a' fouchten as he pipit, there wad hae been anither tale to tell.
And he was toon-piper forby, jist like you, Sanders, efter they
took frae him a' 'at he had.'