‘But ye’re wearing Lairdie Bower’s auld big coat.’
‘And what for no? Lairdie has anither coat, a brawer yin, and he lent me the auld yin because the nichts is cauld, and I hae a hoast ma’sel! Div ye ken Lairdie Bower? I’ve been wi’ his auld faither and the lasses half the day, but speakin’s awfu’ dry work.’
Here Merton repeated the bottle trick, and showed symptoms of going to sleep, his head rolling on to the shoulder of the rough.
‘Haud up, man!’ said the rough, withdrawing the support.
‘A’ freens here,’ remarked Merton, drawing a dirty clay pipe from his pocket. ‘Hae ye a spunk?’
The rough provided him with a match, and he killed some time, while Preston Pans was passed, in filling and lighting his pipe.
‘Ye’re a Lanerick man?’ asked the inquiring rough.
‘Ay, a Hamilton frae Moss End. But I’m taking the play. Ma auld tittie has dee’d and left me some siller,’ Merton dragged a handful of dirty notes out of his trousers pocket. ‘I’ve been to see the auld Bowers, but Lairdie was on the shift.’
‘And ye’re ganging to Embro?’
‘When we cam’ into Embro Toon
We were a seemly sicht to see;
Ma luve was in the—