'An' wad ye hae me say Ickeybod to the Kirk Session? An' what wad I say syne? I cud say what ye telled me, Mester Prittie, 'at ye thocht the lassie Tirpie was the mither o' the minister's bairn, but I ken naething mysel'.'
'An' what for wad ye pu' me intil't a'?'
'It was ye telled me, Mester Prittie; noo wha telled you?'
'Faigs an' that's mair nor I ken mysel'. We maun hae a quiet meetin' o' the session, an' gang ower't a' first, an' aiblins we'll ken what to do syne; for there's nae man of Belil sall sit e'y tabernacle gin I can pu' him doon.'
'An ye, hae raison, Mester Prittie! Pu' doon their high places, an' burn their groves wi' fire. It's a' Scriptur an' sound doctrine. But I'm sayin', sir, hae ye been round to speer for the minister the day? An' hoo are ye gaun to manage for the morn's Kirk?'
'Weel I wat, an' ye hae me there, Joseph. Ye see I juist cudna bring mysel' to gang an' be speerin' for a man whan the folk says he's livin' in open sin. There's nae tellin' what micht come til the skirts o' my ain garment! as ye were sayin' e'y noo, the folk's that set on their reports an' their rumours, there's nae kennin' whaur the next flee may licht; an'--Lord! they micht hae a body's sel' kirned up wi't a'! An' then! think o' me to be taen by the folk for an ill liver. Spoken o' for keepin' company wi' the evil men an' seducers 'at wax worse an' worse, as the word says. An' gin I gaed hame syne, the wife wad be for pu'in the wig aff my cantle, an' layin' the spurtle about my bare lugs; for she's no for prankin' wi' that gate, my mistress! A gude wummin I'll allow, a' the same, but juist terrible on a' ill doin, an' licht on-gaein's. But we maun hae a thocht to the services o' the Sanctuary the morn, an' no hae the folk comin' to the ministry o' the word, an' nae banquet ready for their hungry sauls. We'd hae them stravaigin' the braesides the lieve lang Sawbith day, like puir menseless sheep that hae na gotten a shepherd. Sae, gin ye'll come wi' me, for fear o' pryin eyen, we'se gang round an' see hoo we'll arrange.'
'As they sallied forth they encountered Peter Malloch taking his evening stroll. For once Ebenezer was well pleased at the meeting, and resolved that Peter too should accompany them, and be another witness to the conservation undefiled of his skirts--a purely poetical figure by the way, for he wore a sort of jacket, his wife and tailoress being economical of cloth. The article of dress was, in fact, that which his betters of an earlier generation were wont to denominate a spencer.
It required no pressing to secure Peter's company. He scented promotion in being thus associated with one of the eldership, in church business, and it seemed a first step upwards from the Deacons' Court to the sacred college of the Kirk-session. Under other circumstances this honour would have been carefully withheld, for Peter's popularity among the church officers was not great. To use Ebenezer's own words on another occasion, 'He's a gude man, an' a leeberal, but oh! he's a meddlin' body.' Ebenezer's skirts, however, were uppermost in his thoughts then, and their invisible folds sufficed to cover many an objection from his view.
Reaching the minister's door, they found Miss Brown in the act of dismissing the surgeon. Her brother had at last fallen asleep with the assistance of an opiate, and he was not on any pretext whatever, so said the Doctor, to be disturbed. Miss Brown led them into Eppie Ness's apartment, where that good soul was sitting with the baby in her arms.
Ebenezer regarded the poor child fixedly, and gasped in his indignation. How could he think, or arrange for the ministrations of the sanctuary in the very presence of that child of confusion? His brow darkened, and no one can guess what eloquent utterance he might not have given forth, if Mary Brown with her pleasant smile, had not pointed to a chair for him to sit down, and asked what arrangements he proposed to make for the church supply on the morrow.