Meg left the room, with a broad grin on her good-humoured face.
'What's the bitch lauchin' at?' exclaimed MacGregor, starting to his feet.
The whole company rose likewise, using their endeavour to persuade him to go home.
'Duv ye think I'm drunk, sirs? I'll lat ye ken I'm no drunk. I hae a wull o' mine ain yet. Am I to gang hame wi' a lassie to haud me oot o' the gutters? Gin ye daur to alloo that I'm drunk, ye ken hoo ye'll fare, for de'il a fit 'll I gang oot o' this till I hae anither tum'ler.'
'I'm thinkin' there's mair o' 's jist want ane mair,' said Peddie.
A confirmatory murmur arose as each looked into the bottom of his tumbler, and the bell was instantly rung. But it only brought Meg back with the message that it was time for them all to go home. Every eye turned upon MacGregor reproachfully.
'Ye needna luik at me that gait, sirs. I'm no fou,' said he.
''Deed no. Naebody taks ye to be,' answered the chairman. 'Meggie, there's naebody's had ower muckle yet, and twa or three o' 's hasna had freely eneuch. Jist gang an' fess a mutchkin mair. An' there'll be a shillin' to yersel', lass.'
Meg retired, but straightway returned.
'Miss Naper says there's no a drap mair drink to be had i' this hoose the nicht.'