Tom stopped to roar with laughter, and bumped into a pedestrian.
"Hold hard! Keep a hand on the reins, can't yon?" exclaimed the individual, pushing Tom off.
Tom looked at him. It was Jimmie Short, another sort of cousin.
"Stow it, Jimmie. Don't y' know me?"
Jimmie took him firmly by the coat lapels and pulled him into the gutter.
"'f course I know ye," said Jimmie in a conciliatory tone, as to a drunk. "Meet me in half an hour at the Miners' Refuge, eh? Three steps and a lurch and there y' are!—Come, matey"—this to Jack—"take hold of y' pal's arm. See ye later."
Tom was weak with laughter at Jimmie's benevolent attitude. They were not recognised at all, as they lurched across the road.
They had a drink, and strolled down the long principal street of Perth, looking in at the windows of all the shops, and in spite of the fact that they had no money, buying each a silk handkerchief and a cake of scented soap. The excitement of this over, they rolled away to the riverside, to the ferry. Then again back into the town.
At the corner of the Freemason's Hotel they saw Aunt Matilda and Mary; Aunt Matilda huge in a tight-fitting, ruched dress of dark purple stuff, and Mary in a black-and-white striped dress with a tight bodice and tight sleeves with a little puff at the top, and a long skirt very full behind. She wore also a little black hat with a wing. And Jack, with a wickedness brought with him out of the North-West, would have liked to rip these stereotyped clothes and corsets off her, and make her walk down Hay Street in puris naturalibus. She went so trim and exact behind the huge Mrs. Watson. It would have been good to unsheathe her.
"Hello!" cried Tom. "There's Aunt Matilda. We've struck it rich."