"Paw!"

"Ay, wumin," answered Tamson senior, turning from his task of blowing up his old balloons.

"Spud's comin' hame on week-end pass, an', d'ye ken——"

"Whut?"

"He's been made an officer."

"Ye're haverin'."

"I'm no'! Listen," said she, digging a letter out of her old leather purse and reading aloud—

"Dear Mither,—I'm weel. I hop' you fayther an' the dug's weel. I've been made a heid yin here. The Kurnel made me a Lance-Korperal for distingwishet kondukt. I expect to get made a genral in aboot a [pg 79] month. I'm kumin' hame on pass for a week-end. Love tae a'—an' the dug.

"Spud.

"P.S.—Hoo's ma lass. Tell her I'll staun her a slider an' fish supper when I kum."

"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.

Mrs Tamson wrapped the Sunday trousers and eight-day alarm clock in her apron, then blithely stepped down the stairs on a visit to "Uncle." En route she announced to all in the close that Spud had been made an officer in the Mileeshy, and expected to be a general in a month.

"You'll be haein' a spree," inquired Mrs M'Fatty, the last to hear the news, and one who shrewdly guessed the meaning of the parcel under Mrs Tamson's apron.

"Ay. He'll be hame the nicht. I think I'll get some table beer, iron brew, finnin haddies, gingerbreid, an' cookies. It'll be a chinge tae the laddie efter eatin' biscuits an' bully beef. But Ta-ta the noo," and off she went to the pawnshop. There, the goods which had been regularly pawned once a week for twenty years, were again handed over in return for cash. All the necessary goods were next secured, after which the [pg 81] happy housekeeper returned to her attic in the Gallowgate.

"You've been decoratin'," she said with a smile as she entered and saw how the ingenious Tamson had made an arch of Welcome out of coloured rags and streamers of variegated hues from all the coloured paper delivered from the middens.

"Jist that, wumin," he answered, tacking up "Welcome Home" above the mantelpiece, which completed the general scheme.

"We'll be prood, prood folks the nicht, missus," Tamson mused as he slipped his arm round her waist and gave her a peck on the washed portion of her face.

"It's a gless o' beer you're efter, ma man—ye ken fine hoo tae get roon' us puir weemin."

"Maybe ay, maybe no', but I'll no' refuse it."

Meantime Spud Tamson, attired in his best, and with ten shillings in his pocket, was being hurled swiftly from Bogmoor Camp to Glasgow in the train. Just before he was due at the Central Station the melodeon and mouth-organ band of the Murder Close Brigade tramped on to the platform playing "The March of the [pg 82] Cameron Men." A large crowd of girl followers were also present, and in the centre of these smiling hussies was Mary Ann, her chubby face suffused with delight and expectancy. This was the proudest moment of her life, for was she not the chosen lass of Lance-Corporal Spud Tamson of the Glesca Mileeshy?

"Here's the train. Here's the train," somebody yelled.

"Form up," ordered the Chief of the Gallowgate Brigade. A rough line was formed, the melodeons and mouth-organs in front, and, as the train steamed in, these blaring instruments bellowed forth "The Cock o' the North," while the others let loose a deafening cheer to Spud Tamson, who was hanging out of the carriage with a face like Sunny Jim.

"Mary!"

"Spud!"

There was a wild embrace, which lasted longer than the time allowed by the official programme. Other greetings were then given. Next the band formed up, with Spud and his girl in the centre, the remainder following behind, and off they stepped out of the Central Station to yells [pg 83] and hoochs and the tune of "The Old Brigade." Traffic had to be suspended at various points in Argyle Street till the laughing throng marched past. As they neared the Gallowgate they received a stirring welcome. And from out of his father's window Spud observed a string of balloons with "Welcome" painted on their sides.

The echo of the cheering and the band had completely upset the equilibrium of Maw Tamson. She dropped the finnin haddies among the cookies, and mixed table beer with the lemonade. Even the cold-blooded Tamson was roused. He was hanging over the window waving an old red shirt, and shouting, "Hooray! Hooray!" The mongrel "dug" was doing a sort of gaby glide along the waxcloth, while the cat skipped over the floor in a joyful tango style.

"He's comin'! He's comin'!" shouted Mrs Tamson at last, at the same time wiping her large red lips with her rough brown apron. Just then the door burst open, and Spud, Mary Ann, and the whole crowd entered.

"Ma son! ma son!" said the excited old [pg 84] lady, grasping the fragile form of her offspring into her great arms. Her kisses almost lifted the skin off her hero's face. Indeed, she only released him on his shouting, "You're chokin' me, Maw." Tamson senior next tendered a hearty welcome. These formalities over, the company were invited to take seats and be merry. Of course there was a crush. But Mary Ann was given a place of honour at the miniature table, while the remainder were accommodated on the jawbox, dresser, the bed, fender, and coal-bunker.

"Ye'll jist need tae tak' pot-luck," was Mrs Tamson's opening address, as she dispensed a bit of potted heid, finnin haddie, gingerbread, a cookie, and a glass of liquid refreshment all round.

"Help yersel', Mary," said Spud to his chosen one, at the same time pressing her foot underneath the table.

"The'll be a waddin' here next, Mrs Tamson," piped in shrewd Mrs M'Fatty.

"It's anither free feed ye're efter, I'm thinkin'," retorted Spud, with a wink at his beaming Maw. "Onywey, I'll no' get mairret till I'm a gen'ral."

After supper there was a general entertainment. [pg 85] Paw Tamson danced the Fling and the Hornpipe, just as he used to do at the Hielanmen's Corner; Maw sang—

"Spud, he is ma daurlin', ma daurlin',

Spud, he is ma daurlin',

An' a braw Chevalier."

This was followed by solos on the melodeon and mouth-organ, and then came the dance. The old attic fairly shivered with the rattle of the feet. Indeed, Paw Tamson sat breathlessly waiting for the surging floor to crash through to the neighbours below. An equally startling thing occurred. In the middle of a barn dance, all gave a thrilling jump and a hooch. This loosened the clothes-pulley on the roof of the house below. Down it went with a crash, tearing the clock, pictures, and dish-racks with it, as well as striking the bald and withered head of Paw Grumpie, a hereditary foe of the Tamsons.

"Thae d—— balloon an' candy keelies," he groaned, at the same time seizing the poker and rushing upstairs. With a kick he smashed in a panel of the door, then flinging it open, he dashed in, followed by all the Grumpie clan. In a minute a joyful [pg 86] party was turned into a regular vendetta. Pokers, brooms, dishes, mats, and haddie bones were freely used, and it was only the cry of "Polis" which ended this startling combat. As the Tamson party heard the echo of the bobbies' feet, they fled to their various buts and bens, leaving Spud and Mary Ann to sweep up the wreckage, and renew in private their tender endearments.

"Guid nicht, Mary," said he at the close, later on, giving her one more kiss.

"Guid nicht, Spud, an' ye'll see me the morn?"

"Oh ay."

"An' you'll aye be true tae me?"

"True as daith," he said, gripping her firmly by the hand. Giving her another kiss and a wave of his hand, he shouted, "Ta-ta," and made for bed.

Mary Ann's sleep that night was one long rosy dream. She lived in a land of love, and the hero of it all was this gallant Lance-Corporal of the Glesca Mileeshy. She longed for the coming day, to renew the hours of bliss; but, alas! that never came. For her early slumbers were shaken by the newsboys' cry of "War—Troops for the Front." Her first thoughts were of Spud, and she [pg 87] flew to his abode, but all she saw was Mrs Tamson, as pale as death, and sitting with a tear-stained telegram in her hand.

"Spud's awa'—read that," said she to Mary, with a sob. The girl gripped it feverishly, then saw—

"Lance-Corporal Spud Tamson Regiment for Active Service Rejoin immediately.

Adjutant."

"God help me!" shrieked the girl, swooning away on the floor, for the poor can love perhaps more truly than the rich.

[pg 88]