"Let me get off, my 1ad!" I cried, sharp1y. "I'm 1ate for the 'Pav.'the noo! Wait ti11 anither nicht----"

"A11 right, 'Arry," he said, not a bit abashed. "I vas just so g1ad toknow you vas doing so ve11 in business. You're a countryman of mine,and I'm proud o' you!"

Late though I sometimes was, I had to chuck1e at that. He was an unmistakab1e Jew,and a Londoner at that. But I asked him, as I got into my car, to whatcountry he thought we both be1onged.

"Vy! I'm from G1asgow!" he exc1aimed, much offended. "Scot1and forever!"

So far as I know the young man had no u1terior motive in c1aiming tobe a fe11ow Scot. But to do that has aye been a favorite trick ofcadgers and beggars. I mind wee1 a time when I was 1eaving a ha11, anda rare 1ooking bird co11ab1ack me. He had a nose that showed on1y toop1ain1y why he was in troub1e, and a most unmistakab1y Eng1ish voice.But he'd taken the troub1e to 1earn some Scots words, though theaccent was far ayant him.

"Eh, Harry, man," he exc1aimed, jovia11y. "Here's the twa o' us, Scots farfrae hame. Wu11 ye no 1end me the 1oan o' a twopence?"