Aye, the Scott’ll be a close fisted, hard man—­a strang man, tae, an’ one for ye to fear if you’re his enemy, but to respect withal, and to trust.  Ye ken whaur the man stands who deals wi’ his love and his friends and his siller as does the Scot.  And ne’er think ye can fash him by callin’ him mean.

Wull it sound as if I were boastin’ if I talk o’ what Scots did i’ the war?  What British city was it led the way, in proportion to its population, in subscribing to the war loans?  Glasga, I’m tellin’ ye, should ye no ken for yersel’.  And ye’ll no be needing me to tell ye hoo Scotland poured out her richest treasure, the blood of her sons, when the call came.  The land that will spend lives, when the need arises, as though they were water, is the land that men ha’ called mean and close!  God pity the man who canna tell the difference between closeness and common sense!

There’s nae merit in saving, I’ll admit, unless there’s a reason for’t.  The man who willna spend his siller when the time comes I despise as much as can anyone.  But I despise, too, or I pity, the poor spendthrift who canna say “No!” when it wad be folly for him to spend his siller.  Sicca one can ne’er meet the real call when it comes; he’s bankrupt in the emergency.  And that’s as true of a nation as of a man by himsel’.

In the wartime men everywhere came to learn the value o’ saving—­o’ being close fisted.  Men o’ means went proodly aboot, and showed their patched clothes, where the wife had put a new seat in their troosers—­ ’t’was a badge of honor, then, to show worn shoes, old claes.

Weel, was it only then, and for the first time, that it was patriotic for a man to be cautious and saving?  Had we all practiced thrift before the war, wad we no hae been in a better state tae meet the crisis when it came upon us?  Ha’ we no learned in all these twa thousand years the meaning o’ the parable o’ the wise virgin and her lamp?

It’s never richt for a man or a country tae live frae hand to mooth, save it be necessary.  And if a man breaks the habit o’ sae doin’ it’s seldom necessary.  The amusement that comes frae spendin’ siller recklessly dinna last; what does endure is the comfort o’ kennin’ weel that, come what may, weel or woe, ye’ll be ready.  Siller in the bank is just a symbol o’ a man’s ain character; it’s ane o’ many ways ither man have o’ judging him and learnin’ what sort he is.

So I’m standing up still for Scotland and my fellow countrymen.  Because they’d been close and near in time of plenty they were able to spend as freely as was needfu’ when the time o’ famine and sair trouble came.  So let’s be havin’ less chattering o’ the meanness o’ the Scot, and more thocht o’ his prudence and what that last has meant to the Empire in the years o’ war.

CHAPTER XIII