“There were thirty-five folk sat doon in Duffy’s hoose that nicht, no’ coontin’ a wheen o’ the neighbours that stood in the lobby and took their chance o’ whit was passin’ frae the kitchen. Duffy hadna richt started carvin’ the No. 6 hen when a messenger cam’ to the door to ask for the surtoo coat, because the man in the Zoo had his job changed for that nicht and found he needed the coat for his work; so Duffy was quite gled to get rid of it, and put on his Sunday jaicket. ‘Ask him if he wadna like a wee lend o’ my new tight boots,’ he says to the messenger frae the Zoo; ‘if he does, come back as fast’s ye can for them, and I’ll pay the cab.’
“Efter the high tea was by, the Ardentinny man never asked onybody’s leave, but began to tune his pipes, stoppin’ every twa or three meenutes to bounce aboot the player he was, and that his name was M’Kay—yin o’ the auld clan M’Kays. Macrae, the nicht polis, was awfu’ chawed that he brocht him there at a’. Ye couldna hear yersel’ speakin’ for the tunin’ o’ the pipes, and they werena nearly half ready for playin’ on when the bride’s mither took the liberty o’ stoppin’ him for a wee till we wad get a sang frae somebody.
“‘James’ll sing,’ says the bride, lookin’ as prood’s ye like at her new man. ‘Will ye no’ obleege the company wi’ “Dark Lochnagar”?’ “‘I wad be only too willin’,’ he tellt her, ‘if I had on my ither boots and hadna ett thon last cookie.’ But we got him to sing ‘Dark Lochnagar’ a’ richt. In the middle o’t the man frae Ardentinny said if Duffy wad haud on a wee he wad accompany him on the pipes, and he started to tune them again, but Macrae stopped him by puttin’ corks in his drones.
“Jinnet sang the ‘Auld Hoose.’ Man! I was prood o’ her. Yon’s the smertest wumman in Gleska. The Rale Oreeginal!”
“Don’t you yourself sing, Erchie?”
“Not me! I’m comic enough withoot that. A flet fit and a warm hert, but timmer in the tune. Forbye, I was too busy keepin’ doon the man frae Ardentinny. He was determined to hae them pipes o’ his tuned if it took him a’ nicht. I tried to get him to gang oot into the back-coort to screw them up, but he aye said they were nearly ready noo, they wadna tak’ him ten meenutes, and he kept screechin’ awa’ at them. It was fair reediculous.
“At last the bride’s mither got him put into the kitchen, and was clearin’ the room for a dance. Duffy was very red in the face, and refused to rise frae the table. ‘Whit’s the use o’ dancin’?’ says he; ‘are we no’ daein’ fine the way we are?’ And then it was found oot he had slipped his tight boots aff him under the table, and was sittin’ there as joco as ye like in his stockin’ soles.
“The young yins were dancin’ in the room to the playin’ o’ a whustle, and the rest o’ us were smokin’ oot on the stair-heid, when the man frae Ardentinny cam fleein’ oot wi’ his bagpipes still gaspin’. He said it was an insult to him to start dancin’ to a penny whustle and him there ready to play if he could only get his pipes tuned.
“‘Never you heed, Mac,’ says I; ‘ye’ll hae a chance at Macrae’s waddin’ if ye can get the pipes tuned afore then; he’s engaged to oor Sarah.’
“I was that gled when the cat-wutted cratur fell amang his pipes gaun doon the stair in the mornin’; it served him richt.”