I hae heard tell 'at folk was sayin' that; but we a' ken there's folk e'y warld wad say onything, an' the dafter it was, the mair they'd haud til't. Do ye believe it yersel', Mester Prittie?'

Weel! that's juist what I dinna ken! Whiles, whan I think o' a' the minister has dune an' come through, I canna believe it ava'; but than, what a' body says maun hae something intil 't, an' they hae sae mony sma' things to lay thegither, a body canna weel help misdoubtin' but there may be something intil 't. An' ye ken, efter a', the flesh is but wake!'

'Hech sirse, ay! rael wake,' sighed Joseph, with a most melancholy swing of the head. 'Rael wake! we hae Scriptur for that. The apostle himself fand the evil praisent with him, whan he maist wanted to do gude, an' he was gude by ordnar. It's little winder gin the lave gangs wrang whiles. It's juist a dispensation, as ane micht say, or a kind o' warnin' to folk no to be ower sure an' sotten up i' their ain gudeness. Weel I wat we're wake craiters!'

'But what think ye o't, Joseph? Ye're a man o' sense, an' I'd like til hear yer opeenion.'

'A weel, Mr. Prittie, I'm juist like yersel', I dinna weel ken what to think. I've fand him a gude maister, an' he's a fine preacher, an' a' the Hieland folk says he has the Gaelic juist graund, an' he's rael gude to a' body 'at's needin'; but as ye say yersel', the flesh is wake.'

'An' ye see,' said Ebenezer, 'it's sing'lar whan ye pet that an' that thegither, the way it a' fits in. Peter Malloch telled me 'at auld Tibbie Tirpie brocht in a pound note o' the Peterhead Bank the verra day efter he seed the minister slinkin' oot o' her door efter dark, an' we a' ken naebody passes thae notes here ava, but him. I'm fear'd, Joseph, there's something intil 't. An' hoo cud it come intil a' body's head at ae time, gin there wasna some foundation?'

'Lordsake, ay, Mester Prittie! There's aye water whaur the stirk's drooned, we a' ken that, an' there's nae reek athout burnin'. But is na't a' terrible? Sic a fine young minister! an' sic doon-come t'ey Kirk! Ickeybod! Ickeybod! wae's me!'

'Na, na. There maun be nae Ickeybod! An' nae wite te'y Kirk. Ilka sinner maun bear his ain laid, an' Auchan maun be peuten furth frae the congregation o' the Lord. We maun hae't a' up afore the session! an' Joseph, ye'll hae til appear, an' testifee til a' ye ken. We beut to hae this Babylonish gaarment cousten out e'y camp!'

'Preserve us a'! Mester Prittie, it's you 'at beut to testifee; ye ken a' about it, I ken naething.'

'Wha said Ickeybod ey noo? Was that me? An' what meaned ye by't, gin ye winna staund to yer word?'