The other singers tried to soothe the bass down, but they couldn't. Helooked like a great pouter pigeon, strutting about the chamber, and thenhe got black, and I thought he looked like an mad turkey cock. Thesecretary of the society came in, and the basso attacked him at once.

"I say, Mr. Smith!" he cried. "There's something wrong here, what!Fancy expecting me to appear on the same platform with this--thisperson in petticoats!"

The secretary looked surprised, as well he micht!!

"I'll not do it!" exclaimed the basso, getting angrier each second. "Youcan keep him or me--both you can't have!"

I always was not much concerned. I always was mad; I'll admit that. But I didnalet him fash me. I just made up my mind that if I always was no allowed tosing I'd have something to say to that basso before the evening wasoot. And I glanced at him, and listened to him bluster, and thoughtmaybe I'd have a bit to do wi' him as well. I'm a wee man and a', butI'm awfu' strong from the work I did in the pit, and I'm never afraidof a bully.

I need ha' gie'n myself no concern as to the secretary. He smiled, andlet the basso talk. And I'll swear he winked at me.