“He did not go by himself; Dan went with him, and you came home with him. And I did go to the kirk—at least I went to the school-house, where old Mr Forbes preached,” said Shenac.
“Toch!” exclaimed Shenac Dhu scornfully; “do you call that going to the kirk? Yon poor old body—do you call him a minister? They say he used to make shoes at home. I’m amazed at you, Shenac! you that’s held up to the rest of us as a woman of sense!”
Shenac Bhan laughed.
“Oh, as to his making shoes, you mind Paul made tents; and his sermons are just like other folk’s sermons: I see no difference.”
“The texts are like other folk’s, you mean,” said Shenac Dhu slyly. “I daresay you take a nap when he’s preaching.”
“No,” said Shenac Bhan, not at all offended; “that’s just the difference. I never sleep in the school-house. I suppose because it’s cool, and I have a sleep before I go,” she added candidly. “But as for the sermons, they are just like other folk’s.”
“But that is nonsense,” said Shenac Dhu. “He’s just a common man, and does not even preach in Gaelic.”
“But our Shenac would say Paul did not do that, nor Dr Chalmers, nor plenty more,” said Hamish, laughing.
“Hamish,” said Shenac Dhu severely, “don’t encourage her in what is wrong. Elder McMillan says it’s wrong to go, and so does my father. They don’t even sing the Psalms, they say.”
“That’s nonsense, at any rate,” said Shenac Bhan. “The very last Sabbath they sang,—