"Come, boys, come," he said, "I know ye're in there. We've got a beautiful lesson to-day." We crouched in a corner, still silent.
"Come, boys," he urged, "don't keep me waiting. The lesson is about the Prodigal Son."
"Say somethin', Arthur," I urged. He did.
"T' hell wi' the Prodigal Son!" he said, whereupon the little man jumped the low wall into the outer yard and drove the big, grunting, wallowing sow in on top of us! Our yells could be heard a mile away. We came out and were collared and taken off to Sunday School.
When I returned, the cups were all tossed and the visitors had gone, but Willie Withero had dropped in and was invited to "stap" for tea. He was our most welcome visitor and there was but one house where he felt at home.
"Tay" that evening consisted of "stir-about," Sonny Johnson's unearned bap and buttermilk. Willie made more noise "suppin'" his stir-about than Jamie did, and I said:
"Did ye iver hear ov th' cow that got her foot stuck in a bog, Willie?"
"No, boy, what did she do?"
"She got it out!" A stern look from Jamie prevented the application.
"Tell me, Willie," Anna said, "is it thrue that ye can blink a cow so that she can give no milk at all?"