"But what got ye there?"
"Weel, I got the blue lift."
"And what was that to ye?"
"It said to me that I was a foolish man to care aboot the claiks and the strifes o' the warl'; for a' was quaiet aboon, whatever stramash they micht be makin' doon here i' the cellars o' the speeritual creation."
Annie was silent: while she did not quite understand him, she had a dim perception of a grand meaning in what he said.
The fact was that Annie was the greater of the two in esse; Cupples the greater in posse. His imagination let him see things far beyond what he could for a long time attain unto.
"But what got ye at the kirk, Annie?"
"Weel, I canna say I got verra muckle the day. Mr Turnbull's text was, 'Thou, Lord, art merciful, for thou renderest to every man according to his works.'"
"Ye micht hae gotten a hantel oot o' that."
"Ay. But ye see, he said the Lord was merciful to ither fowk whan he rendert to the wicked the punishment due to them. And I cudna richtly feel i' my hert that I cud praise the Lord for that mercy."