"Macallum."
"Do you know there is a death here, Macallum?"
"If I didn't I would know it now, because of what lies yonder."
Mechanically Andrew Blair looked round. As he knew, a rough bier was there, that was made of a dead-board laid upon three milking-stools. Beside it was a claar, a small tub to hold potatoes. On the bier was a corpse, covered with a canvas sheeting that looked like a sail.
"He was a worthy man, my father," began the son of the dead man, slowly; "but he had his faults, like all of us. I might even be saying that he had his sins, to the Stones be it said. You will be knowing, Macallum, what is thought among the folk ... that a stranger, passing by, may take away the sins of the dead, and that, too, without any hurt whatever ... any hurt whatever."
"Ay, sure."
"And you will be knowing what is done?"
"Ay."
"With the bread ... and the water...?"
"Ay."