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The piper made his appearance according to the time-honoured tradition, and marched twice round the table while the oaken rafters overhead rang to the dirl of the dance he drew from his chanter.

“Mamma, dis little dirl is Nan; de boy is named Harry; he is Nan’s bruver, and dose big dirls is Ethel and Blanche; dey’s Nan’s and Harry’s big sisters.”

Babs was a “dooder dirl” than usual that morning, if that were possible.

Babs was a good little girl—or a “dood ’ittle dirl,” as she phrased it—but even good girls get hungry sometimes.

I ask papa is you pretty, an' he tell me yes, bootiful, an' every night I pays for you and say God bress papa an' mam-ma, an' auntie, and Miss Mac-Dolly, and 'ittle brodder, an' make Daisy a dood dirl, and have Miss Mac-Dolly send her sumptin' for Tissmas, for Christ's sake.