Sandy MacTavish was a guest at a christening party in the home of a fellow Scot whose hospitality was limited only by the capacity of the company. The evening was hardly half spent when Sandy got to his feet, and made the round of his fellow guests, bidding each of them a very affectionate farewell. The host came bustling up, much concerned.
“But, Sandy, mon,” he protested, “Ye’re nae goin’ yet, with the evenin’ just started?”
“Nay,” declared the prudent MacTavish, “I’m no’ goin’ yet. But I’m tellin’ ye good-night while I know ye all.”
* * *
The young man, who was notorious for the reckless driving of his car, was at his home in the country, when he received a telephone call, and a woman’s voice asked if he intended to go motoring that afternoon.
“No, not this afternoon,” he replied. “But why do you ask? Who are you?”
“That doesn’t matter,” came the voice over the wire. “It’s only that I wish to send my little girl down the street on an errand.”