“Div ye mean tae say that Milton...” and the fathers noticed how Jamie was guiding Hillocks to his point.
“Ye've said the word, Jamie, an' it's a gey like business for Drumtochty,” and it was known in twenty-four hours up as far as Glen Urtach that Hillocks had hunted Milton's religion to earth, and found him out to be a Morman.
This was considered one of Jamie's most successful efforts, and the Glen derived so much pure delight from the very sight of Milton for some weeks that he might have become popular had it not been for an amazing combination of qualities.
“His tracts are irritatin', an' no what we've been accustomed tae in Drumtochty”—Drums-heugh was giving judgment in the kirkyard—“but a' cud thole them. What a' canna pit up wi' is his whinin' an' leein'. A' never heard as muckle aboot conscience an' never saw sae little o't in this pairish.”
It was a tribute in its way to Milton that he alone of all men aroused the dislike of the kindest of parishes, so that men fled from before his face. Hillocks, who was never happy unless he had two extra on his dogcart, and unto that end only drew the line at tramps, would pass with a bare compliment on board, and drop the scantiest salutation.
“Hoo are ye the day, Milton? a' doot it's threatenin' a shoor.”
Drumsheugh had been known to disappear into a potato field at Milton's approach, under pretence of examining the tubers, while Bumbrae, who was incarnate charity, and prejudiced in favour of anything calling itself religion, abandoned this “professor” in regretful silence. Drumtochty was careful not to seat themselves in the third until Milton had taken his place, when they chose another compartment, until at last Peter used to put in this superior man with Kildrummie to avoid delay. It was long before Milton realised that Drumtochty did not consider his company a privilege, and then he was much lifted, seeing clearly the working of conscience in a benighted district.
“Milton hes been giein' oot in Muirtown that he's thankfu' he wes sent tae Drumtochty,” Jamie announced one Sabbath, with chastened delight, “an' that his example wes affectin' us already. 'They daurna face me in the verra train,' says he tae Tammas Bisset; 'it's the first time yon fouk ever came across a speeritual man. They're beginnin' tae revile, an' we ken what that means; a' never thocht a' wud hae the honour of persecution for righteousness' sake.' That 's his ain mind on't, an' it's a comfort tae think that Milton's contented.”
“A've kent anc or twa fair leears in ma time,” reflected Hillocks, “but for a bare-face—”
“Persecuted is a lairge word,” broke in Drumsheugh, “ay, an' a graund tae, an' no fit for Milton's mooth. Gin he named it tae me, a'd teach him anither story. A foumart (pole cat) micht as weel speak o' persecution when he's hunted aff the hillside.