'Plenty o' leave! Keep yer mind easy, Macgreegor. It's a million in gold to a rotten banana we never get a bash at onybody. It's fair putrid to think o' a' the terrible hard wark we're daein' here to nae purpose. I wisht I was deid! Can ye len' 'us a bob?'
'I ha'ena got it, Wullie; honest.' Willie sadly shook his head. 'That moll o' yours,' said he, 'is awfu' expensive. Ye've nae notion o' managin' weemen. Listen, an' I'll tell ye something. Ye mind last Monday? Weel, I had a late pass that nicht, an' I thocht I wud miss seein' ma aunt's ugly for wance—though it meant missin' a guid meal forbye. So when I got to Glesca I picked up thon fat girl we used to fling rubbish at when we was young. An', by Jings, she was pleased an' prood! She stood me ma tea, includin' twa hot pies, an' she gi'ed me a packet o' fags—guid quality, mind ye!—an' she peyed for first-class sates in a pictur' hoose! That's hoo to dae it, ma lad!' he concluded complacently.
'An' what did you gi'e her?' Macgregor inquired, after a pause.
'Ma comp'ny, likewise some nice fresh air fried in naething, for I took her for a short walk. I could manage wi' ninepence.'
'Ach, I didna think ye was as mean as that, Wullie! Was—was she guid-lookin'?'
'I didna notice her face a great deal; but she's a beezer for stootness. I'm gaun to meet her again on ma next leave. If I tell her we've orders for the Dardanelles, there's nae guessin' what she'll dae for me.'
'She maun be unco saft,' Macgregor commented pityingly.
'Maybe the kilt had something to dae wi' it,' Willie modestly allowed. 'They a' adore the kilt. Can ye no spare saxpence . . . weel, thruppence?'
'I could spare ye a bat on the ear, but I'll tell ye what I'll dae. I've got some money comin' the morn, an' I'll present ye wi' twa bob, if ye'll tak' yer oath to spend them baith on gi'ein' the fat yin a treat.'
Willie gasped. 'D'ye think I'm completely mad?'