“Whaur, whaur?” cried several voices at once.
“I’m thinkin’,” said Robin, drily, “some o’ the Embro’ folk would be muckle obliged to ye if ye would drap it in the Nor’ Loch.”
“Ye’re a set o’ gomerals!” exclaimed Tammy, in great wrath. “I meant naething o’ the sort; but only that I would gie ower speaking about it.”
“So we’re no to hae the story after a’?” said Matthew Henderson.
“Yes,” said Tammy; “I’m quite agreeable to tell’t, if ye will only sit still and haud your tongues. Aweel, I was coming ower the hill ae night.”
“’Odsake, Tammy,” cried Robin, “will ye ne’er get ower that hill? Ye hae tell’t us that ten times already; gang on, man, wi’ the story.”
“Then, to mak a lang story short, as I was coming ower the hill ae night about ten o’clock I fell in—”
“Fell in!” cried Matthew Henderson, “Whaur? Was’t a hole, or a well?”
“I fell in,” replied Tammy, “wi’ a man.”
“Fell in wi’ a man!” said Willie Walkinshaw. “Weel, as there were twa o’ ye, ye could help ane anither out.”