"What is this lass o' yourn?" asked Tom after a silence.
"I think she's a wee bit servant lassie," replied the Scotchman; "she's a bonny wee thing too, and fairly enamoured wi' a kilt."
Tom still walked on aimlessly; the thought of going to meet a girl who might never come did not have much attraction for him; still he didn't know where to go.
"I don't think I'll come any further," he said presently.
"Nay, what makes ye alter your mind, Tom?"
"I think I'll go back to the Black Cow," replied Tom, "'appen there's some chaps there who'll stand a treat. After all, Penrose wur right when he called me an ass."
"Penrose is what you call a gentleman ranker, I'm thinking."
"Summat o' that sort," replied Tom,
"What did he call you an ass for?"
"Well, you see I've been a bit of a fool; I've spent all my brass, and I've took up wi' a lot o' lads as is no use to me. Penrose is gone to the Y.M.C.A. You wouldn't think it perhaps, McPhail, but I wur a bit in the religious line myself once. I wur educating myself too, and I had as nice a lass as there was i' Brunford, but I took up wi' the daughter of a man as kept a public-house, and—well, there you are."