non-descript sort of man, followed by Sarah, a sour faced spinster of uncertain age. In the rear is Donal Mackenzie. He is wearing a tourist costume of Norfolk jacket and knickers, and is a keen faced, hard, angular looking personage.)

John. Yous are all welcome. Every one of you. You Andy and Sarah, and Mr. Mackenzie. The Scotch is aye welcome, Mr. Mackenzie.

Mackenzie. Aye. That's what I said the last time I was in Ballyannis, and was verra thirsty, and went into a beer-shop to get a dram—Black and White it was. Verra guid. (He laughs loudly at his own joke.)

Sarah. We brought Mr. Mackenzie along with us to see your brother, John. You see he's an engineer and knows a good deal about machinery and plans and things.

Mackenzie. Aye. There's not much about machinery that I dinna ken, Mr. Murray, from a forty thousand horse power quadruple expansion doon to a freewheel bicycle. (Proudly.) I hae done spells work at all of them, you ken.

Andy. I suppose Daniel's at home. Is he?

John. Daniel? Oh aye, Daniel's at home. He's just tidying himself up a wee bit.

Mackenzie. A wee bit paint and powder gangs a lang gait to make up defects, as you ken yourself, Miss McMinn. (He laughs loudly.) That's a guid one.

Andy (looking slyly at Sarah). He's up out of bed then?

John (innocently). Oh aye. He sits up late of nights working out things. (He points to the door of workshop.) That's his workshop.

Mackenzie. He works then?

John. Aye. He works in there. (Andy goes over and goes into workshop.)

Mackenzie. Because it doesna follow always, as I have discovered in my experience, that because a man has a workshop, he works. (He laughs, evidently much pleased at his own humour.)

Andy (looking out again through door). There's nothing much to see in this place except a lot of dirty papers.

John. That's the plans of the bellows he's working at.

Mackenzie (going over to workshop). Come out, Mr. McMinn, till I examine. (Andy comes out and he passes in.) Eh. This is the plan of the great bellows. (He laughs loudly.)

Andy. Is he making much headway with it, John?

John. Indeed, now, I think he's doing bravely at it. He's keeping very close at it this day or two.

Andy. There's a terrible amount of newspapers lying in there. Has he no other plans and drawings except what's there?

John. Oh aye. He has plenty of plans and drawings somewhere, for I seen them once or twice.

Mackenzie (coming out). I can't say much about that contrivance. (He laughs.) And, I say. Look here. He does more than draw bellows. He draws corks as well. (He produces a bottle of whiskey almost empty.)

John. Ah, well. He's not a great transgressor either in the matter of a bottle. No, no.

Andy. And the smell of smoke in the place!

Sarah. John, I think Daniel smokes far too much.

Andy. He should be dressed by now.

John. Aye. Oh, aye. He should right enough. He's a wee bit backward before women, you know, Sarah. (Calls.) Daniel! (He goes over and opens door into rooms.) Daniel!

Daniel (without). Yes. (He appears at the door struggling vainly with his collar.)

John. Why didn't you come long ago. What kept you?

Daniel. Your collar. (He looks across at Andy and Sarah, who have seated themselves at the back.) How do you do, Andy and Sarah? You're very welcome. (He looks at Mackenzie, who stares curiously at him.)

Andy. This is a friend of ours, Daniel, that happened to be stopping with us last summer at Newcastle in the same house, and he came over for his holidays to us this time. We brought him over to see you. They calls him Mackenzie.

Daniel (crossing over to the left and taking a seat near the door of the workshop.) How do you do?

Mackenzie (patronisingly). I'm glad to see you at last, Mr. Murray, for I've heard a good deal about you.

Sarah. You see, Daniel, Mr. Mackenzie is an engineer in one of the great Scotch engineering yards. (Daniel's face expresses his dismay, which he hurriedly tries to hide.) What place was it you were in, Mr. Mackenzie?

Mackenzie. I served six years in the engine and fitting shops with Messrs. Ferguson, Hartie & Macpherson, and was two years shop foreman afterwards to Dennison, McLachlan & Co., and now I'm senior partner with the firm of Stephenson & Mackenzie. If ever you're up in Greenock direction, and want to see how we do it, just ask for Donal Mackenzie, and they'll show you the place. (Proudly.) We're the sole makers of the Mackenzie piston, if ever you heard of it.

Daniel (uneasily). I'm sorry to say I haven't.

Mackenzie. And you call yourself an engineer and you don't know about Donal Mackenzie's patent reciprocating piston.

John (apologetically). You see we be a bit out of the world here, Mr. Mackenzie.

Daniel. Yes. Now that's one point. One great point that always tells against me. (Getting courageous.) It really needs a man to be continually visiting the great engineering centres—Greenock, London—

Mackenzie (scornfully). London's not an engineering centre—Glasgow, Hartlepool, Newcastle——

Daniel. Well, all those places. He could keep himself posted up in all the newest ideas then, and inventions.

Mackenzie. But a man can keep himself to the fore if he reads the technical journals and follows their articles. What technical papers do you get? Do you ever get the Scottish Engineers' Monthly Handbook, price sixpence monthly? I'm the writer on the inventors' column. My articles are signed Fergus McLachlan. Perhaps you've read them?

Daniel. I think—um—I'm not quite sure that I have.

Mackenzie. You remember one I wrote on the new compressed air drills last July?

Daniel (looking across at John, who is standing with his back to the fireplace). I don't think I do.

John. No. We don't get them sort of papers. I did buy one or two like them for Daniel, but he told me he would just as soon have the Whig, for there was just as much information in it.

Mackenzie (laughing). O spirit of Burns! Just as much information—well, so much for that. Now,