So, the professional agitator hath been at work here. I must take counsel with McCrankie. His uncompromising puritanism will no doubt find a way out of the difficulty.

Odds truth! what means this metamorphosis.

Aweel, aweel, I'll tell ye a' aboot it. I wasna tat weel last nicht, and sae, tae warm my heart, I jist had -

A wee drappie?

Wha tauld thee, mon? Sickerly! I had ane wee drappie.

He had one wee drappie!

But somegate I felt waur instead o' better; and sae - weel, I jist had anither wee drappie.

He had two wee drappies!

But twa wee drappies didna reach the cause.

So thou hadst three?

Four?

Five?

Six?

Weel, I didna jistly coont.

Well, thou wert past arithmetic; what then?

I'd a fa'an asleep; an' i' my sleep, got crackin' tae mysel'. An' what dae ye think I said?

Mon, I neither ken nor care. (Exit.)