“I shan’t go!” protested Margot defiantly. If eviction had been probable, she did not believe that the Chieftain would have taken it in so unperturbed a fashion; but it was evident that she had committed some offence, and that he was aware of its nature. “But what have I done?” she continued urgently. “That’s what I want to discover. There can’t be any harm in going to church!”
“Oh, can’t there, just? That’s the whole crux of the matter. You went to the wrong church!”
There was a pause of stunned surprise while Margot gasped, and Ron’s sleepy eyes brightened with curiosity.
“The wrong church! How can that be? They are both Scotch Presbyterians? There is no difference between them?”
“Only this difference, that the members of one kirk are hardly on speaking terms with the members of the other! That their leaders are at law together in the Courts, and that feeling runs so high, even in this sleepy hollow, that Mrs McNab, being a Free, refuses to sell milk to the ‘Wees,’ and is shamed to the heart to think that a guest living under her house-roof should have condescended to attend their service. It will be all over the Glen this afternoon that the bonny lady fra the inn chose to give her offering of siller to the ‘Wees,’ and they will bear themselves haughtily in consequence. Mrs McNab feels that she has been humiliated the day in the eyes of the neighbourhood. No wonder she looks coldly upon you!”
Margot flushed with resentment and indignation, but before she could speak Ron burst into impetuous speech.
“They quarrel? Up here? A handful of men and women among the great mountains? How can they do it? How can they harbour ill-feeling?
“And what can they quarrel about? There must be such tiny, trivial differences. I am thankful I am not a Dissenter!” cried Margot proudly. “There are so many sects that one gets muddled among them all, and even in the same one it appears that there are differences! I am thankful that I belong to the Church.”
The Chieftain looked at her quietly.
“To which Church?”