"Hoots!" interrupted Cupples, "do ye think I was gaun to lat the laddie gang reid-wud to the deevil, ohn stud in afore 'm and cried Hooly!"
After this the two were friends, and met often. Cupples went to the missionars again and again, and they generally walked away together.
"What gart ye turn frae the kirk o' yer fathers, and tak to a conventicle like that, Thomas?" asked Mr Cupples one evening.
"Ye hae been to them baith, and I wad hae thocht ye wad hae kent better nor to speir sic a question," answered Thomas.
"Ay, ay. But what gart ye think o' 't first?"
"Weel, I'll tell ye the haill story. Whan I was a callan, I took the play to mysel' for a week, or maybe twa, and gaed wi' a frien' i' the same trade's mysel', to see what was to be seen alang a screed o' the sea-coast, frae toon to toon. My compaingon wasna that gude at the traivellin'; and upo' the Setterday nicht, there we war in a public-hoose, and him no able to gang ae fit further, for sair heels and taes. Sae we bude to bide still ower the Sawbath, though we wad fain hae been oot' o' the toon afore the kirk began. But seein' that we cudna, I thocht it wad be but dacent to gang to the kirk like ither fowk, and sae I made mysel' as snod as I could, and gaed oot. And afore I had gane mony yairds, I cam upo' fowk gaein to the kirk. And sae I loot the stream carry me alang wi' 't, and gaed in and sat doon, though the place wasna exackly like a kirk a'thegither. But the minister had a gift o' prayer and o' preaching as weel; and the fowk a' sang as gin't was pairt o' their business to praise God, for fear he wad tak it frae them and gie't to the stanes. Whan I cam oot, and was gaein quaietly back to the public, there cam first ae sober-luikin man up to me, and he wad hae me hame to my denner; and syne their cam an auld man, and efter that a man that luikit like a sutor, and ane and a' o' them wad hae me hame to my denner wi' them�-for no airthly rizzon but that I was a stranger. But ye see I cudna gang 'cause my frien' was waitin' for his till I gaed back. Efter denner, I speirt at the landlady gin she cud tell me what they ca'd themsels, the fowk 'at gathered i' that pairt o' the toon; and says she, 'I dinna ken what they ca' them-�they're nae customers o' mine�-but I jist ken this, they're hard-workin' fowk, kind to ane anither. A'body trusts their word. Gif ony o' them be sick, the rest luiks efter them till they're better; and gin ony o' them happens to gang the wrang gait, there's aye three or four o' them aboot him, till they get him set richt again. 'Weel,' says I, 'I dinna care what they ca' them; but gin ever I jine ony kirk, that s' be the kirk.' Sae, efter that, whan ance I had gotten a sure houp, a rael grun' for believin' that I was ane o' the called and chosen, I jist jined mysel' to them that sud be like them�-for they ca'd them a' Missionars."
"Is that lang sin syne?"
"Ay, it's twenty year noo."
"I thocht as muckle. I doobt they hae fared like maist o' the new fashions."
"Hoo that?"