I’ve in mind a man I know weel.  He’s a sociable body.  He likes fine to gang aboot wi’ his friends.  But he’s no rich, and he maun be carefu’ wi’ his siller, else the wife and the bairns wull be gae’in wi’oot things he wants them to have.  Sae, when he’ll foregather, of an evening, wi’ his friends, in a pub., maybe, he’ll be at the bar.  He’s no teetotaller, and when some one starts standing a roond o’ drinks he’ll tak’ his wi’ the rest.  And he’ll wait till it comes his turn to stand aroond, and he’ll do it, too.

But after he’s paid for the drinks, he’ll aye turn toward the door, and nod to all o’ them, and say: 

“Weel, lads, gude nicht.  I’ll be gae’n hame the noo.”

They’ll be thinking he’s mean, most like.  I’ve heard them, after he’s oot the door, turn to ane anither, and say: 

“Did ye ever see a man sae mean as Wully?”

And he kens fine the way they’re talking, but never a bean does he care.  He kens, d’ye see, hoo he maun be using his money.  And the siller a second round o’ drinks wad ha’ cost him went to his family—­ and, sometimes, if the truth be known, one o’ them that was no sae “mean” wad come aroond to see Wully at his shop.

“Man, Wull,” he’d say.  “I’m awfu’ short.  Can ye no lend me the loan o’ five bob till Setterday?”

And he’d get the siller—­and not always be paying it back come Setterday, neither.  But Wull wad no be caring, if he knew the man needed it.  Wull, thanks to his “meanness,” was always able to find the siller for sicca loan.  And I mind they did no think he was so close then.  And he’s just one o’ many I’ve known; one o’ many who’s heaped coals o’ fire on the heads of them that’s thocht to mak’ him a laughing stock.

I’m a grand hand for saving.  I believe in it.  I’ll preach thrift, and I’m no ashamed to say I’ve practiced it.  I like to see it, for I ken, ye’ll mind, what it means to be puir and no to ken where the next day’s needs are to be met.  And there’s things worth saving beside siller.  Ha’ ye ne’er seen a lad who spent a’ his time a coortin’ the wee lassies?  He’d gang wi’ this yin and that.  Nicht after nicht ye’d see him oot—­wi’ a different lassie each week, belike.  They’d a’ like him fine; they’d be glad tae see him comin’ to their door.  He’d ha’ a reputation in the toon for being a great one wi’ the lassies, and ither men, maybe, wad envy him.

Oftimes there’ll be a chiel o’ anither stamp to compare wi’ such a one as that.  They’ll ca’ him a woman hater, when the puir laddie’s nae sicca thing.  But he’s no the trick o’ making himsel’ liked by the bit lassies.  He’d no the arts and graces o’ the other.  But all the time, mind ye, he’s saving something the other laddie’s spending.