[Miss Rose declines, with some stiffness, to express an opinion on so delicate a point.
Mr. Parr. (recklessly). I'll pit a sexpence on Macrae wi' ye, come noo!
Mr. Havers. Na, na, pit cawmpetent jedges on to deceede, and they'll be o' my opeenion; but I'll no bait wi' ye.
Mr. Parr. (his blood up). Then I'll hae a sexpence on 't wi you, Mester McKerrow!
Mr. McKerr. Nay, I'm for Macrae mysel'.... An' we're baith in the richt o't too, for they've jist gien him the bit red flag—that means he's got firsst prize.
Mr. Parr. (to Mr. Havers, with reproach). Man, if ye'd hed the speerit o' your opeenions, I'd ha' won sexpence aff ye by noo!
Mr. Havers (obstinately). I canna thenk but that Macrae's kelt was too lang—prize or no prize. I'll be telling him when I see him that he looked like a lassie in it.
Mr. Parr. (with concern). I wouldna jist advise ye to say ony sic a thing to him. These Hielanders are awfu' prood; and he micht tak' it gey ill fro' ye!
Mr. Havers. I see nae hairrm mysel' in jist tellin' him, in a pleesant, daffin-like way, that he looked like a lassie in his kelt. But there's nae tellin' hoo ye may offend some fowk; an' I'm thenking it's no sae verra prawbable that I'll hae the oaportunity o' saying onything aboot the maitter to him.