XI.
SANDY STANDS "EMPIRE" AT A CRICKET MATCH.
I was sittin' on Friday nicht, readin' awa' at some bits o' the Herald I didna get at on Fursday, when the shop door gaed clash back to the wa', an' in hammered fower or five bits o' loons a' at the heels o' ane anither. When they saw me, they stood stock still, dichtin' their noses wi' their jeckit sleeves, an' glowerin' like as mony fleggit sheep.
"Go on, Jock," says ane o' them, gien anither ane a shuve forrit. "You're the captain; speak you."
Jock gae a host, an' syne layin' his hand—a gey clorty ane it was—on the coonter, an' stanin' on ae fit, he says—"Isyin?"
"Wha micht he be?" says I.
"Sandy," said the captain.
"What Sandy?" says I.
"No," said ane o' the birkies ahent; "your Sandy—Sandy Bowden."