"O, it's the deevil fleein' efter somebody," she said. "An' he has an auld hewk in his hand, an' I saw the sparks o' feyre fleein' frae his tail. An' there's aboot sixteen hunder ither deevils at his heels."
On floo Pottie yalpin' "Pileece," "Murder," "Help," wi' Sandy at his tails, an' the ither half-dizzen followin' up, pechin' like cadgers' pownies. Pottie gaed clash into Stumpie Mertin's coal cellar, an' lockit the door i' the inside. Sandy kickit at the door, an' Pottie yalled like a wild cat. Sandy cam' awa' an' met the ither billies, an', stoppin' them, tell'd them he was nae mare mismirized than they were. "I wantit to gie Pottie a fleg, an' I think he's gotten't," says he. "Him an' me's square noo."
They gaed back to Stumpie's cellar, an' gin this time there were twenty laddies an' twa pileece roond the door.
"It's Pottie Lawson gane daft," said the laddies to the pileece. "He's foamin' at the moo."
Efter an awfu' wey o' doin' they got Pottie haled oot o' the cellar an' hame; an' it's my opinion he'll never be seen in oor washin'-hoose again; an' I'm shure I'll no' brak' my heart.
But aboot the can'le an' the ink—you mibby winder hoo Sandy manished to stamack them. I gaed in an' smelt the ink. It was sugarelly watter, an' the can'le had been cut oot o' a neep an' laid juist whaur it was handy.
Ye never heard sic lauchin' as there's been sin' the story eekit oot. Sandy's heid pillydakus amon' them a' noo, an' they think he's peyed aff Pottie wi' compound interest. It's made Pottie fearder than ever; they tell me he's been looking efter a job at the Freek bleechin,', so as to get awa' oot o' the toon for a while.