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Peter was at the last extremity. He
was cold, sleepy, hungry. As he was
passing a large building, however,
his eyes brightened. It had two bul
letin boards at its front Each of
these held a placard of some kind, in
the center of which, plainly visible
even at a distance, was the counter
feit presentment of a huge Scotch
thistle.
"Certes, the sight warms the cock
les o' my heart!" breathed Peter
raptly, and as he came nearer he dis
covered that the placards announced
a Robert Burns birthday concert the
following evening.
"It's like a whiff o' hame," contin
ued Peter. "Braw Bobby! I'm oot o'
sich festivities at the present time,but
'a man's a man for a' that,' an' 111
take a heart o' cheer," and seating
himself on the cold stone steps Peter
began to warble out cheerily, "Ye
Banks and Braes o' Bonny Doon."
"Hech, mon! but ye're frae Dum
barton, I "ken?" .
Peter jumped up to observe a
frowsy, ancient liead stuck out past
a half-open door.
"Ye hae the burr o' the same!"
cried Peter.
"Coom in," Invited the other, with
a commiserating glance over Peter,
and he admitted him, closed and
locked the door after him and led
him into the basement; of the hall,
which seemed given oyer to "kitchen
uses. It contained great ranges, pots,
pans, crockery, barrels of flour, baga
of sugar, in fact, a culinary outfit
that astonished the inexperienced
Peter. Then, as he was regarding
the layout open-mouthed, his host
shot the shrewd injuiry at him:
"What else are ye but a fine whis
tler?" "A fine baker!" proclaimed Peter
with proud confidence, "but Scotch,
mind ye. The trade's no good in this
country."
It took David McPherson,- club
cook, a very few minutes to turn his
fellow countryman "inside out," as
he expressed it
"And what for all this prodigious
food?" questioned Peter.
"The banquet, mon," returned Da
vid. "It's the spread after the con
cert and the speechifying the real
enjoyment, with mountain dew ad
dendum," and the old fellow went on
to tell how, as the chef d'cuisine in all
the function of St. Andrews' society
he held a lucrative and busy place.
"I can use ye, lad, maybe perma
nently, if ye fill the bill," he said, and
he shared his supper and hJjp bed with
Peter, to wake up at sunrise to find
his guest standing' patiently beside
him In a manifest state of suppressed
excitment.
"I've an idea," spoke Peter. "It
waked me hours since," and then
with enthusiastic vim he developed a
wondrous scheme that had come into
his mind. Scotsmen all, those at the
banquet might hail the novelty of
real Scotch cooking with ardor.
"There's mutton pies, ye mind,"
explained Peter. "Their mouths will
water for the real home-made cook-
-ery. And brose no great quantity,
but a suggestion of the heathesy
moor .and the childhood cot. And
scones and oaCcakes and short bread
and whole wheat Farrels and Melton
Mowbray pork pies!"
Peter had set the imagination of
old David on fire. He was heart and
soul in harmony with the plan of sur
prising the banqueters with Scotch
fare purely. And so it came about,
It was a marvelous success. Upon
the eventful night men who saw be
fore them the unadulterated prod
ucts ot their home soil grew tender
and loyal and the hall rang with un
restrained enthusiasm that marked
the occasion as glowing and grand.
.Now at the banquet was one Peter
Wilbur. And it so happened that at
the home of this stalwart son of
Scotia, now. a prosperous business
man, Jessie had secured employment.
Peter had taken home one of the
mutton pies to remind his wife of old
times, as he had been reminded, and
Mrs. .Wilbur -had given it to. Jessie.
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