“‘Oh! ye needna be that feared, ye’ll maybe no’ get the powney,’ said she, and I went awa’ like a fool and took the ticket.
“The draw took place jist when the bazaar was shuttin’ on the Setturday nicht. And I won the powney wi’ the broon harness.
“I tore my ticket and thrieped it was a mistake, but I couldna get oot o’t; they a’ kent the powney was mine.
“It was stabled behind the bazaar, and had to be ta’en awa’ that nicht. I offered it to onybody that wanted it for naething, but naebody wad tak’ it aff my hands because they a’ said they had to tak’ the car hame, and they wadna be allooed to tak’ a powney into a car wi’ them. So they left me wi’ a bonny-like prize.
“I put its claes on the best way I could, fanklin’ a’ the straps, and dragged it hame. We lived in the close at the time, and I thocht maybe Jinnet wad let me keep it in the lobby till the Monday mornin’ till I could see whit I could dae. But she wadna hear tell o’t. She said, it wad scrape a’ the waxcloth wi’ it’s aim buits, and wad be a bonny-like thing to be nicherrin’ a’ Sunday, scandalisin’ the neebours, forbye there bein’ nae gress in the hoose to feed it on. I said I wad rise early in the mornin’ and gaither denty-lions for’t oot at the Three-Tree Well, but she wadna let me nor the powney inside the door.
“It wasna an awfu’ big broad powney, but a wee smout o’ a thing they ca’ a Shetland shawl powney, and its harness didna fit it ony place at a’. It looked at the twa o’ us, kind o’ dazed like.
“‘Ye’re, no’ gaun to turn my hoose into a stable, and me jist cleaned it this very day,’ said Jinnet.
“‘And am I gaun to walk the streets a’ nicht wi’t?’ I asked, near greetin’.
“‘Put it oot in the ash-pit, and the scavengers ‘ll tak’ it awa’ in the mornin’,’ she said, and I did that, forgettin’ that the mornin’ was the Sunday.
“But it didna maitter; the powney wasna there in the mornin’, and I took guid care no’ to ask for’t.”