About thirty or forty people had assembled from the surrounding districts, some of whom had come four or even six miles to attend church. They formed a quiet, grave, orderly company of men and women in homespun garments, with only a few children among them. The arrival of the laird’s party made a very considerable addition to the congregation, and, as the hour for meeting had already passed by a few minutes, they made a general move towards the church.
The building was wonderfully small, and in the most severely simple style of architecture, being merely an oblong structure of grey stone, with small square windows, and a belfry at one end of the roof. It might have been mistaken for a cottage but for this, and the door being protected by a small porch, and placed at one end of the structure, instead of at the side.
A few of the younger men remained outside in conversation, awaiting the advent of the minister. After a time, however, these dropped in and took their seats, and people began to wonder why the minister was so late. Presently a boy with bare legs and a kilt entered the church and whispered to a very old man, who turned out to be an elder. Having heard the boy’s message, the elder crossed over to the pew in which the laird was seated and whispered to him, not so low, however, as to prevent Giles Jackman from hearing all that passed. The minister’s horse had fallen, he said, and bruised the minister’s legs so that he could not officiate.
“Very awkward,” returned the laird, knitting his brows. “What’s to be done? It seems absurd that so many of us should assemble here just to look solemn for a few minutes and then go home.”
“Yes, sir, it iss akward,” said the elder. “Could you not gif us a discoorse yoursel’, sir, from the prezenter’s dask?”
The latter part of the proposition was to guard himself from the imputation of having asked the laird to mount the pulpit.
“Me preach!” exclaimed the laird; “I never did such a thing in my life.”
“Maype you’ll read a chapter, what-ë-ver,” persisted the elder.
“Impossible! I never read a chapter since I was born—in public, I mean, of course. But why not do it yourself, man?”
“So I would, sir, but my throat’ll not stand it.”