The following night, while returning from the errand of previous nights, he again encountered Willie.
“So may fayther’s gaun to gi’e ye a job. He tell’t me it was fixed.”
“Ay,” said Willie, “but he canna tak’ me on for a fortnicht.”
“Weel, that’s no lang to wait.”
For a few seconds Willie was mute; then he blurted out—“I’m done for!”
“Done for!” exclaimed Macgregor, startled by the despair in the other’s voice. “What’s wrang, Wullie?”
“I’m in a mess. But it’s nae use tellin’ ye. Ye canna dae onything.”
“Is’t horses?” Macgregor asked presently.
“Naw, it’s no’ horses!” Willie indignantly replied.
How virtuous we feel when accused of the one sin we have not committed!