Chapter Eleven.
Peculiar Incidents of a Sabbath among the Western Isles.
One beautiful Sunday morning while the party assembled in Kinlossie House was at breakfast, a message was brought to the laird that he “wass wantit to speak wi’ the poy Tonal’.”
“Well, Donald, my lad, what want ye with me this fine morning?” asked the laird, on going out to the hall.
“I wass telt to tell ye the’ll be no kirk the day, for the minister’s got to preach at Drumquaich.”
“Very well, Donald. Have you had breakfast?”
“Oo, ay.”
“Go into the kitchen, then, and they will give you some more.”
“Thenkee, sir.”