He gaed doon to supper Donal' i' the forenicht, an' I took a dander awa' doon ahent him, juist to get a moof'u' o' caller air. When I landit at the stable door I heard Sandy speakin' to somebody. I took a bit peek in at the winda, an' here's Sandy merchin' aboot wi' the horse cover tied up in a bundle in ae hand, an' a stick i' the ither. He stoppit in the tume staw an' laid doon his bundle rale smert like; syne he lookit ower the buird to Donal', an' says, in an Englishy kind o' a voice, "Twa return tickets third-class an' back to Edinboro!" I saw syne what he was at! He was practeesin' seekin' the tickets at the station. Ow, ay; Sandy's like a' ither body! He's a gey breezie carlie when he's awa' frae hame, an' his dickie on!
Sandy had his uswal argey-bargeyin' in the train, an' I thocht ae man an' him, that cam' in at Carnoustie, wi' his wife, an' a pair o' nickerbucker breeks on, was genna t'a' to the fechtin' a'thegither. An' faigs, Sandy snoddit him geylies afore we got to Dundee.
There was a lot o' men' an' loons staiverin' aboot Carnoustie playin' at the gowf; an' Sandy says—"Look at thae jumpin'-jecks o' craturs wi' their reed jeckets on, like as mony organ-grinders' monkeys, rinnin' aboot wi' their bits o' sticks, wallopin' awa' at Indeen-rubber ba's. Puir craturs!"
Man, the chappie wi' the nickerbuckers got up in an awfu' pavey, an' misca'ed Sandy for a' the vagues—you never heard the like!
"Look ye hear, my bit birkie," says Sandy, gien a gey wild-like wink wi' his richt e'e, "you speak when ye're spoken till! I dinna bather mysel' wi' paper-mashie peeriewinkles like the likes o' you; but if you gi'e me ony o' your sma' chat, man, I'll tak' an' thrapple you wi' that fowerpence-happeny-the-dizzen paper collar ye've roond the wizand o' ye."
"Wud ye?" said the Carnoustie birkie, jumpin' till his feet.
The train gae a shoag juist at that meenit, an' he gaed doit ower on the tap o' Sandy, and brocht a tin box doish doon on his heid. He got a gey tnap, I can tell you. Sandy keepit his temper something winderfu', an' he juist quietly set doon Nickerbucker Tammie on the seat an' says, "Ay, loonie; juist you sit still there till your mither gie's your nose a dicht, an' ties your gartins; an' you'll get a piece an' jeely on't when the trainie stops."
You never heard sic lauchin' as there was; an' Sandy's frien' lookit as gin he'd haen a dram, an' gotten an awfu' dose o' cauld. He didna say "guid-mornin'" when he gaed oot at the Toy Brig Station.
Sandy had twa-three mair pliskies atween Dundee an' Edinboro, but I hinna time to tell you o' them. Peety the man that starts to write Sandy's beebliographie. If he tells the hale truth, eksettera, he'll hae a gey job. The faimly Bible 'ill be like a heym-book aside the volum. They'll need to get up early i' the mornin' that reads Sandy's life, I tell you. The man that writes it 'ill never win to his bed ava.
Weel-a-weel, we landit at Edinboro, an Meg was waitin's, an' as mony bairns wi' her as wudda startit a raggit schule—although they were a' braw an' snod, I ashure ye.