Erchie, My Droll Friend. Munro Neil

even Mr Carnegie’s wee lassie has them. I hae nae doot the best fun her and her paw gets is when they’re playin’ at bein’ puir. The auld man’ll nae doot whiles hide his pocket-money in the press, and sit doon readin’ his newspaper, wi’ his feet on the chimneypiece, and she’ll come in and ask for a bawbee.

      “‘I declare to ye I havena a farden, Maggie,’ he’ll say; ‘but I’ll gie ye a penny on Setturday when I get my pay.’

      “‘I dinna believe ye,’ she’ll say.

      “‘Then ye can ripe me,’ says her paw, and the wee tot’ll feel in a’ his pooches, and find half a sovereign in his waistcoat. They’ll let on it’s jist a bawbee (the wee thing never saw a rale bawbee in her life, I’ll warrant), and he’ll wonner whit wye he forgot aboot it, and tell her to keep it and buy jujubes wi’t, and she’ll be awa’ like a whitteruck and come back in a while wi’ her face a’ sticky for a kiss, jist like rale.

      “Fine I ken the wee smouts; it was that wye wi’ oor ain Teenie.

      “Other whiles she’ll hae a wee tin bank wi’ a bee-skep on’t, and she’ll hae’t fu’ o’ sovereigns her faither’s veesitors slip’t in her haund when they were gaun awa’, and she’ll put it on the mantelpiece and gang out. Then her paw’ll get up lauchin’ like onything to himsel’, and tak’ doon the wee bank and rattle awa’ at it, lettin’ on he’s robbin’t for a schooner o’ beer, and at that she’ll come rinnin’ in and catch him at it, and they’ll hae great fun wi’ that game. I have nae doot her faither and mither get mony a laugh at her playin’ at wee washin’s, too, and lettin’ on she’s fair trauchled aff the face o’ the earth wi’ a family o’ nine dolls, an’ three o’ them doon wi’ the hoopin’-cough. Oh! they’re no’ that bad aff for fine fun even in Skibo Castle.”