by: Wheeler, Les
The postie‘s reid van cam deistin doon the cairt road tae the fermtoon an Brockit, sittin on the tap o an auld cheese-press, watched it comin.
Fit wid the postie be bringin the day? The postie got oot, left the van door open an wint roon tae the doors at the back..
“There‘s a gie big parcel for ye the day, mistress,“ says the postie tae the ferm-wife.
“That’ll be the claith I sent aff for,“ said the ferm-wife, “l thocht it wid be due this wik“.
File the postie cairret the parcel intae the hoose, Brockit loupit aff the postie’s van. Brockit hid niver bin inside a van afore. Brockit hid niver bin inside ony kine o a vehicle afore!
Weel, ye‘Il guess fit happent next. The postie cam oot o the hoose an, afore Brockit could miaow, the van wis awa an skelpin on like a miser efter his siller.
Fan the van took aff Brockit wis that surprised that he wis struck dumb. Bumpity, shoogle and shak-shak gaed the van an the postie wis singin awa tae himsel, like as if he wis in ower his bath, an hearin nithin fan Brockit finally found his voice. The postie wis at the next ferm afore a few gie lood miaows made the postie stop an see fat wis adee. The postie lookit, an sure enuff, he saw a gie feart Brockit starin up at him.
The postie hid his roon tae feenish so he pit Brockit on the seat aside him while he gaed tae the rest o the ferms deliverin his parcels an letters.
An gie prood Brockit wis ence he settled doon. He sat like a wee laird bein drivin roon the countryside. The wifies at the ither fermtoons wir fair delightit wi Brockit an mony a wee piece an bowl o milk wis gaen till him.
But aa gweed things hae tae come tae an end an Brockit’s wee holiday feenisht fan the postie drappit him back at his ain fermtoon.
Brockit hid enjoyed his wee holiday, but a nae sae saft tap on his neb fae his mither‘s paa remindit him that wee bairns shouldna gyang aff gallivantin withoot first tellin thir mithers far thir gyan an fit they’ll be up till.