“'A'm astonished at ye,' says Milton; 'hoo cud ye expect a blessin' on sic a prayer?' an' he rises tae leave. 'Ye 're sure there's naethin' on yir mind, for a 've hed experience.'
“'Weel, Milton, noo that ye 've mentioned 't, there is a maitter tribblin' me, but it's no every man a' cud trust, an' a' dinna want tae burden ye.'
“'Is't a sin o' omission or commission?' an' Milton wes as keen as a ferret. Puir cratur, little he kent Jamie.
“'Curious tae say, it's baith; it's maist extraordinar' hoo near ye've come tae't; hoo cud ye ken?'
“'We 're a' frail, Mister Soutar,' an' Milton lookit as if butter cudna melt in his mooth; 'ye michtna think it, but a v'e been tempit masel—lang syne, of coorse; baith, omission an' commission, did ye say? that's no sae common.'”
“'Na, it taks an accompleeshed sinner tae manage baith at the same time, an' a 'll tell ye the case,' an' a' saw something wes comin'.
“'Ye ken Sandie Mackay, wha sells coals at Kildrummie station on week-day and preaches roond the country on Sabbaths. Drumsheugh's Saunders brocht up ma laist load frae Sandie; “half a ton best burning coal” wes on the paper, an' wud ye believe me, a hundred-wecht short measure, an' half o' them third quality—omission an' commission.'
“'A' can see ye 've scandalised, for a' mind noo, ye 've been acquant wi' Sandie in meetings; noo, Milton, a' wes calc'latin' that a 've lost sax and twopence exactly, and gin ye cud get it oot o' the waefu' wratch, this week, a'd sough awa easier.' Milton made aff withoot anither word, an' the bed shook ablow Jamie.” The afflicted patient was sitting up in bed when Doctor Davidson came in, and would have concealed his occupation had it been possible to get a large paper kite out of sight.
“It's for Saunders's laddie at Drumsheugh,” he apologised; “he's ane o' the maist impi-dent an' mischievous smatchits (little fellow) in the Glen. If a' didna help him wi' his bit trokes there wudna be a floor left in ma gairden; the bairns are juist the trachle o' ma life.”
“Quite so, Jamie; and of all the people in the Glen there's nobody you like so well and none that love you more. The more you scold them, the more they come to you. As for the women, you 've been criticising them for a generation, and now they're all fighting for the honour of nursing you.”