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 I knew she 'd come from overhaul not three months. That morn I met McRimmon's head-clerk—ye 'll not know him— fair bitin' his nails off wi' mortification. "'The auld man 's gone gyte,' says he. 'He 's withdrawn the Lammergeyer.'

"'Maybe he has reasons,' says I.

'"Reasons! He 's daft!'

"'He 'll no be daft till he begins to paint,' I said.

"'That 's just what he 's done—and South American freights higher than we 'll live to see them again. He 's laid her up to paint her—to paint her—to paint her!' says the little clerk, dancin' like a hen on a hot plate. 'Five thousand ton o' potential freight rottin' in dry-dock, man; an' he dolin' the paint out in quarter-pound-tins, for it cuts him to the heart, mad though he is. An' the Grotkau—the Grotkau of all conceivable bottoms—soaking up every pound that should be ours at Liverpool!'

"I was staggered wi' this folly—considerin' the dinner at Radley's in connection wi' the same.

"'Ye may well stare, McPhee,' says the head-clerk. ’There 's engines, an' rollin' stock, an' iron bridges—d' ye know what freights are noo?—an' pianos, an' millinery, an' fancy Brazil cargo o' every species pourin' into the Grotkau—the Grotkau o' the Jerusalem firm—and the Lammergeyer 's bein' painted!'

"Losh, I thought he 'd drop dead wi' the fits.

"I could say no more than 'Obey orders, if ye break owners,' but on the Kite we believed McRimmon was mad; an' Mclntyre of the Lammergeyer was for lockin'