But, ye ken, he was that sort of man we'd always say, when we were talking of him: "Oh, aye-- there's Andy.

A braw laddie--but what he micht be!" Andy thought he was better than the rest of us.

There was that, for ane thing.

He'd no be doing the things the rest of us were glad enough to do.

It was naught to him to walk along the Quarry Road wi' a lassie, and buss her in a dark spot, maybe.