“A'm no wantin' tae frichten ye, Janet,” and Kirsty's face assumed an awful significance, “an' a'm no wantin' tae flatter ye, but ye may lippen tae't Peter's hed a special dispensation. Did ye say aboot twa hands'-breadths?”
As Janet could only nod, Kirsty continued: “He's been gruppit by a muckle hand, an' it's left the sign. Leezbeth wes maybe no sae far wrang aboot the heat, but it came frae the oot-side, a'm dootin'.”
“Div ye mean,” and Janet's voice had sunk to a whisper, “is't auld—”
“Dinna say the word, wumman; he micht be hearin', and there's nae use temptin' him. It's juist a warnin', ye see, an' it's a mercy he gied nae farther. Hed he ta'en baith hands, it micht hae been the end o' yir man.”
“This is no lichtsome,” and Janet began to wail, although not quite insensible to the distinction Peter had achieved; “a' kent frae the beginnin' this wesna a common tribble, an' we 've behadden tae ye for settlin' the maitter. Whatever lies Peter dune tae bringisic a jidgment on himsel? He 's a cautious man as ye 'ill get in the Glen, an' pays his rent tae the day; he may taste at a time, but he never fechts; it beats me tae pit ma hand on the meanin' o't.”
“There wes some clash (gossip) aboot him contradickin' the minister,” said Kirsty, looking into the remote distance.
“Div ye mean the colie-shangie (disturbance) ower the new stove, when Peter and the doctor hed sic a cast oot? Ye 're an awfu' wumman,” and Janet regarded Kirsty with admiration; “a' never wud hae thocht o' conneckin' the twa things. But a' daurna say ye 've no richt, for a' hed ma ain fears aboot the wy Peter wes cairryin' on.
“'A 'll no gie up ma pew whar oor fouk hae sat Gude kens hoo lang, for the doctor or ony ither man; they can pit the stove on the ither side, an' gin it disna draw there, the doctor can set it up in the kirkyaird.' Thae were his verra words, Kirsty, an' a' tell 't him, they wud dae him nae gude.
“If a' didna beg o' him ootside that door no tae gang against the minister. 'Dinna be the first in the Glen tae anger the doctor,' a' said; but Peter's that thrawn when his birse is up that ye micht as weel speak tae a wall.
“He's made a bonnie like endin' wi' his dourness; but, Kirsty, he 's sair humbled, an' a' wudna say but he micht come roond gin he wes hannelled cautious. What wud ye advise, Kirsty?”