On the heels of the Queen’s birthday came the Muckley, the one that was to be known to fame, if fame was willing to listen to Corp, as Tommy’s Muckley.  Unless he had some grand aim in view never was a boy who yielded to temptations more blithely than Tommy, but when he had such aim never was a boy so firm in withstanding them.  At this Muckley he had a mighty reason for not spending money, and with ninepence in his pocket clamoring to be out he spent not one halfpenny.  There was something uncanny in the sight of him stalking unscathed between rows of stands and shows, everyone of them aiming at his pockets.  Corp and Gav, of course, were in the secret and did their humble best to act in the same unnatural manner, but now and again a show made a successful snap at Gav, and Corp had gloomy fears that he would lose his head in presence of the Teuch and Tasty, from which humiliation indeed he was only saved by the happy idea of requesting Tommy to shout “Deuteronomy!” in a warning voice, every time they drew nigh Californy’s seductive stand.

Was there nothing for sale, then, that the three thirsted to buy?  There were many things, among them weapons of war, a pack of cards, more properly called Devil’s books, blue bonnets suitable for Highland gentlemen, feathers for the bonnets, a tin lantern, yards of tartan cloth, which the deft fingers of Grizel would convert into warriors’ sashes.  Corp knew that these purchases were in Tommy’s far-seeing eye, but he thought the only way to get them was to ask the price and then offer half.  Gav, the scholar, who had already reached daylight through the first three books of Euclid, and took a walk every Saturday morning with his father and Herodotus, even Gav, the scholar, was as thick-witted as Corp.

“We’ll let other laddies buy them,” Tommy explained in his superior way, “and then after the Muckley is past, we’ll buy them frae them.”

The others understood now.  After a Muckley there was always a great dearth of pence, and a moneyed man could become owner of Muckley purchases at a sixth part of the Muckley price.

“You crittur!” exclaimed Corp, in abject admiration.

But Gav saw an objection.  “The feck of them,” he pointed out, “will waur their siller on shows and things to eat, instead of on what we want them to buy.”

“So they will, the nasty sackets!” cried Corp.

“You couldna blame a laddie for buying Teuch and Tasty,” continued Gav with triumph, for he was a little jealous of Tommy.

“You couldna,” agreed Corp, “no, I’ll be dagont, if you could,” and his hand pressed his money feverishly.

“Deuteronomy!” roared Tommy, and Corp’s hand jumped as if it had been caught in some other person’s, pocket.

“But how are we to do?” he asked.  “If you like, I’ll take Birkie and the Haggerty-Taggertys round the Muckley and fight ilka ane that doesna buy—­”

“Corp,” said Tommy, calmly, “I wonder at you.  Do you no ken yet that the best plan is to leave a thing to me?”