“Na, na, a'm no coming back,” Peter had said after the doctor had done his best, “till ye 're dune wi' that stove, an' ye needna prig (plead) wi' me ony langer. What is the gude o' being a Presbyterian gin ye canna object? but a 'll give ye this sateesfaction, that though fa' dinna darken the kirk door for the lave o' ma life, a 'll no gang ony ither place.”
An immigrant was the only change in our church circles, and the kirkyard waited for the news of Milton's creed with appreciable interest.
“Weel, Hillocks?” inquired Drumsheugh, considering it unnecessary in the circumstances to define his question.
“Ou aye,” for Hillocks accepted his responsibility, “a' gied Tammas Bisset a cry laist Friday, him 'at hes the grocer's shop in the Sooth Street an' a' the news o' Muirtown, juist tae hear the price o' butter, and a' happened tae licht on Milton an' tae say he wud be an addee-tion tae oor kirk.”
“Did ye though?” cried Whinnie, in admiration of Hillocks's opening move; “that wes rael cannie, but hoo did ye ken?”
“'Gin he be a help tae Drumtochty Kirk,' says Tammas”—Hillocks never turned out of his way for Whinnie—“'it 's mair than he wes tae the Auld Kirk here in twenty year.'”
“The Free Kirk 'ill be pleased then,” broke in Whinnie, who was incorrigible; “they 'ill mak him a deacon: they're terrible for the Sustentation Fund.”
“'It's no lost, Tammas, that a freend gets,' says I,” continued Hillocks, “'an' we 'ill no grudge him tae the Free Kirk; na, na, we're no sae veecious that wy in the Glen as ye are in Muirtown. Ilka man sud hae his ain principle and py his debts.
“' He coonted the Free Kirk waur than the auld here, an' a'm thinkin' he's ower pleased wi' himself tae change up by; he 'ill show ye some new fashions, a'm judgin',' says Tammas.” And Hillocks ceased, that the fathers might face the prospect of a new religion.
“It 's no chancy,” observed Whinnie, collecting their mind.