Here the speaker laid down the bellows, then took up his glass thoughtfully, drained it off slowly, and resumed his contemplation of the fire.
The Minister also refreshed himself, then, keenly watching his companion from the tail of his eye, admitted an acquaintanceship with the bank manager.
'Ay, I ken him. He's a verra decent body—a bit near maybe, an' terribly superfeecial i' antiquarian knowledge. I mind I had a bit differ wi' him the time he was last up at the Camp.
'But supposin' I was inclined to be ceevil till him—what then?'
'Then aiblins,' replied the elder, stooping and knocking the ashes from his pipe against the fender, 'there micht be a bit gliff, an' this bit paper micht come in gey useful by way o' stirrin' up his conscience the whilk, I'm thinkin', has been growin' stiff i' his auld age. If it disna there's nae harm dune.'
The Minister thrust out his legs, and gazed up at the ceiling.
'Was it Dr. Thomson that tended Effie, an' that saw the manager?'
'Ay, 'twas him,' replied his companion.
There was a pause of silence after this response, the elder gazing abstractedly into the fire, the Minister surveying his ceiling, yet all the while out of the tail of his eye keeping watch on his elder.
Ultra sardonic he was, reflected the watcher affectionately, intolerant, plus Calviniste que Calvin même—sceptical of the world, with up-twisted eyebrows that seemed to signify a perpetual interrogation, yet faithful unto death to his duty and his own ideals. He minded well assisting to dig Ringan out of a snowdrift wherein he was seated, calmly tending a ewe and her two tiny lambs.