“I can smoke,” declared Jimsie indiscreetly. Jeannie pressed his arm.
John guffawed, Gran’paw looked amused until Lizzie demanded: “What’s that ye’re sayin’, Jimsie?”
“But I’m no’ a reg’lar smoker,” mumbled Jimsie, crestfallen.
“Ay,” said John, with a jocular wink at his father-in-law, “ye’re feart ye singe yer whiskers, ma mannie.”
“John,” said Lizzie, “it’s naething to joke aboot.... Jimsie, if ever I catch ye at the smokin’, I’ll stop yer Seturday penny, an’ gi’e ye castor ile instead. D’ye hear?”
“Hoots!” cried Gran’paw, “that’s a terrible severe-like punishment, Lizzie!”
“I wud rayther tak’ ile twicet an’ get ma penny,” quoth Jimsie.
“Hear, hear!” from John.
Lizzie was about to speak when the bell rang.
Jeannie slipped from her chair. “I’ll gang, Maw,” she said, and went out.