"Then in a nobler, sweeter song
I'll sing Thy power to save,
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue
Lies silent in the grave,"
when Lachlan seemed to lose the tune, and be falling into a coronach.
"We must not be singing that to-day, father, for God iss fery good to us, and I will be stronger every week, and maybe you will be saying that we are thankful in your prayer."
Then I realised my baseness, and went off on tiptoe (had the dogs been at home it had not been so easy to escape); but first I heard, "Our Father." It was a new word for Lachlan; he used to say Jehovah.
The doctor paid his last visit one frosty winter day, and was merciless on Lachlan.
"What for are ye cockering up this lassie, and no getting her doon tae the kirk? it's clean disgracefu' in an Elder, and if I were yir minister a' wud hae ye sessioned. Sall, ye're hard enough on ither fouk that are no kirk greedy."
"You will not be speaking that way next Sabbath, for it iss in her pew Flora will be sitting with her father," said Lachlan, in great spirits.
Flora caught him studying her closely for some days, as if he were taking her measure, and he announced that he had business in Muirtown on Friday.
When he came up in the market train he was carrying a large paper
parcel, and attempted a joke with Peter at a window of the third.
From a critical point of view it was beneath notice, but as
Lachlan's first effort it was much tasted.
"Ye 'ill believe me noo, Peter, since ye've heard him. Did ye ever see sic a change? it's maist astonishin'."