————
"That bates a'," said Tamson, adjusting his specs. "I kent the sodger bluid o' the Tamson wid mak' a man o' him."
"He gets his brains onywey frae the McSkelpie's," retorted Mrs Tamson, a little offended.
"Awa' wi' ye, wumin. The McSkelpies are a' loonies."
"Anither word an' I'll leave the hoose! Dinnae insult ma family. They've ay worn hats on Sunday, an' that's mair than the Tamsons could ever dae," concluded Mrs Tamson, as she kicked the cat half into the fire.
"Weel, we'll no' fecht aboot it. You're the best o' the bunch, an' no' a bad-lookin' lass," old Tamson crooned in a softer tone, for he was a born diplomat.
"Thenk ye," she replied a little tartly, but inside she was real pleased, for she was only a woman after all.
"An' I say, wife, we'll need tae hae a [pg 80] spree for Spud comin' hame. Hoo's the funds?"
"Weel, I've twa shullin's, but we can get five mair on your Sunday breeks an' that auld knock o' oors."
"The very thing. Awa' the noo an' see," ordered Tamson.