"Let me get off, my lad!" I cried, sharply. "I'm late for the 'Pav.'the noo! Wait till anither nicht----"

"All right, 'Arry," he said, not a bit abashed. "I vas just so glad toknow you vas doing so vell in business. You're a countryman of mine,and I'm proud o' you!"

Late though I sometimes was, I had to chuckle at that. He was an unmistakable Jew,and a Londoner at that. But I asked him, as I got into my car, to whatcountry he thought we both belonged.

"Vy! I'm from Glasgow!" he exclaimed, much offended. "Scotland forever!"

So far as I know the young man had no ulterior motive in claiming tobe a fellow Scot. But to do that has aye been a favorite trick ofcadgers and beggars. I mind weel a time when I was leaving a hall, anda rare looking bird collablack me. He had a nose that showed only tooplainly why he was in trouble, and a most unmistakably English voice.But he'd taken the trouble to learn some Scots words, though theaccent was far ayant him.

"Eh, Harry, man," he exclaimed, jovially. "Here's the twa o' us, Scots farfrae hame. Wull ye no lend me the loan o' a twopence?"