It was one of those real chilly, sleet-driven days in late November at about six o’clock in the evening just before the shop in the High Street in Crieff closed for the day. Three customers came in just at that time and asked to have their canisters filled with paraffin. The owner Mr. Watson, an ironmonger to trade, attended to them. He was a large, red-faced man with enormous jowls - in fact his jowls were so large that his cheeks were like full-blown sails in a gale!

High Street in Crieff.

As he was in the process of leaving he delegated the job to wee Jimmie, his assistant, asking him at the same time to close up the shop when he had finished. Wee Jimmie was a likeable lad, hard-working and always cheery, but like all young lads sometimes too keen and impetuous. The paraffin was used to feed the lamps which were set on the table of the kitchen or the dining room. There is nothing so comforting about the soft glow and warmth created by a paraffin lamp! Jimmie, however, had other things on his mind. He was going out with the lads that evening and accidentally spilt some of the paraffin when he was drawing it and filling the canisters. Being in a hurry he did not bother to clean up the spill.

The following morning Mr. Watson appeared and saw the stain on the floor and was very annoyed. He decided that as Jimmie was a good worker he did not want to fire him but thought that he should be punished just the same. When Jimmie arrived Mr. Watson in some temper told him to go upstairs and take his trousers down and sit with his nether part out the window for half an hour. Jimmie did as he was told and came down later blue with cold. Mr. Watson felt that that was sufficient and hoped he had learnt his lesson. He then told him to get on with his chores. As Jimmie turned away Mr. Watson asked if anyone had come along and said anything. “Yes,” said Jimmie, “two old ladies came along and looked up.” “And what did they say?” asked Mr. Watson “They said, good morning Mr. Watson,” and then he scurried away.