“Hoots, but I’m sorry to hear it,” said the Laird. “What ails her, ken ye, laddie?”
“As I understood, Sir, she had three grave drawbacks. In the first place, she is a widow with a rich jointure.”
“That’s a queer thing to call a drawback!” said the Laird.
“In the second place, she is a widow with a temper, and a good deal of it.”
“Dinna name it!” cried the Laird, lifting up his hands. “Dinna name it! Eh, puir laddie, but I’m wae for him, gin he’s fashed wi’ ane o’ that sort.”
“And in the third place,” continued Angus, “I have been told that he may well preach against worldly-mindedness, for he gets enough of it at home. Mrs Whitefield knows what are trumps, considerably better than she knows where to look in the Bible for her husband’s text.”
“Dear, dear!” cried Lady Monksburn in her soft voice. “What could the good man be thinking of, to bind such a burden as that upon his life?”
“He thought he had converted her, I believe,” said Angus, “but she came undone.”
“I should think,” remarked Mr Keith, “that he acted as Joshua did with the Gibeonites.”
“How was that?” said Angus.