Alec Forbes of Howglen

"Ay and no."

"I dinna unnerstan' ye."

"What the clergy ca' brakin' the Sawbath's no brakin' o' 't. I'll tell ye what seems to me the differ atween the like o' your Mr Turnbull and the Pharisees -and it's a great differ. They band heavy burdens and grievous to be borne, and laid them upo' men's shouthers, but wadna touch sic like to carry them wi' ane o' their fingers: Mr Turnbull and the like o' him beirs their share. But the burden's nane the less a heavy ane and grievous to be borne."

"But the burden's no that grievous to me, Mr Cupples."

"There's no sayin' what you women-fowk will not tak' a pleesur' in bearin'; but the passage refers expressly to the men's shouthers. And faith mine will not endure to be loadent wi' ither fowks fykes (trifles). And sae come alang, deid man's bells."

Annie thought all this rather dreadful, but she was not shocked as a Christian who lives by the clergy and their traditions, instead of by the fresh Spirit of God, would have been. For she could not help seeing that there was truth in it.

But although Cupples could say much to set Annie thinking, and although she did find enlightenment at last from pondering over his words, yet she could have told him far deeper things than he had yet suspected to exist. For she knew that the goal of all life is the face of God. Perhaps she had to learn a yet higher lesson: that our one free home is the Heart, the eternal lovely Will of God, than that which should fail, it were better that we and all the worlds should go out in blackness. But this Will is our Salvation. Because He liveth we shall live also.

Mr Cupples found in the missionar kirk a certain fervour which pleased him. For Mr Turnbull, finding that his appeals to the ungodly were now of little avail to attract listeners of the class, had betaken himself to the building up of the body of Christ, dwelling in particular upon the love of the brethren. But how some of them were to be loved, except with the love of compassionate indignation, even his most rapt listener Thomas Crann could not have supposed himself capable of explaining. As I said, however, Mr Cupples found the sermon in some degree impressive, and was attentive. As he was walking away, questioning with himself, he heard a voice in the air above him. It came from the lips of Thomas Crann, who, although stooping from asthma and rheumatism, still rose nearly a foot above the head of Mr Cupples.

"I was glaid to see ye at oor kirk, sir," said Thomas.

"What for that?" returned the librarian, who always repelled first approaches, in which he was only like Thomas himself, and many other worthy people, both Scotch and English.

"A stranger sud aye be welcomed to onybody's hoose."

"I didna ken it was your hoose."

"Ow na. It's no my hoose. It's the Lord's hoose. But a smile frae the servan'-lass that opens the door's something till a man that gangs to ony hoose for the first time, ye ken," returned Thomas, who, like many men of rough address, was instantly put upon his good behaviour by the exhibition of like roughness in another.

This answer disarmed Cupples. He looked up into Thomas's face, and saw first a massive chin; then a firmly closed mouth; then a nose, straight as a Greek's, but bulky and of a rough texture; then two keen grey eyes, and lastly a big square forehead supported by the two pedestals of high cheek bones -the whole looking as if it had been hewn out of his professional granite, or rather as if the look of the granite had passed into the face that was so constantly bent over it fashioning the stubborn substance to the yet more stubborn human will. And Cupples not only liked the face, but felt that he was in the presence of one of the higher natures of the world -made to command, or rather, which is far better, to influence. Before he had time to reply, however, Thomas resumed:

"Ye hae had a heap o' tribble, I doobt, wi' that laddie, Alec Forbes."

"Naething mair nor was nateral," answered Cupples.

"He's a fine crater, though. I ken that weel. Is he come back, do ye think?"

"What do ye mean? He's lyin' in's bed, quaiet eneuch, puir fallow!"

"Is he come back to the fold?"

"Nae to the missionars, I'm thinkin'."

"Dinna anger me. Ye're nae sae ignorant as ye wad pass for. Ye ken weel eneuch what I mean. What care I for the missionars mair nor ony ither o' the Lord's fowk, 'cep that they're mair like his fowk nor ony ither that I hae seen?"

"Sic like's Robert Bruce, for a sample."

Thomas stopped as if he had struck against a stone wall, and went back on his track.

"What I want to ken is whether Alec unnerstans yet that the prodigal's aye ill aff; and -"

"Na," interrupted Cupples. "He's never been cawed to the swine yet. Nor he sudna be, sae lang's I had a saxpence to halve wi' him."

"Ye're no richt, frien', there. The suner a prodigal comes to the swine the better!"

"Ay; that's what you richteous elder brithers think. I ken that weel eneuch."

"Mr Cupples, I'm nae elder brither i' that sense. God kens I wad gang oot to lat him in."

"What ken ye aboot him, gin it be a fair queston?"

"I hae kent him, sir, sin he was a bairn. I perilled his life -no my ain -to gar him do his duty. I trust in God it wad hae been easier for me to hae perilled my ain. Sae ye see I do ken aboot him."

"Weel," said Mr Cupples, to whom the nature of Thomas had begun to open itself, "I alloo that. Whaur do ye bide? What's yer name? I'll come and see ye the morn's nicht, gin ye'll lat me."

"My name's Thomas Crann. I'm a stonemason. Speir at Robert Bruce's chop, and they'll direc ye to whaur I bide. Ye may come the morn's nicht, and welcome. Can ye sup parritch?"

"Ay, weel that."

"My Jean's an extrornar han' at parritch. I only houp puir Esau had half as guid for's birthricht. Ye'll hae a drappy wi' me?"

"Wi' a' my hert," answered Cupples.

And here their ways diverged.

When he reached home, he asked Annie about Thomas. Annie spoke of him in the highest terms, adding,

"I'm glaid ye like him, Mr Cupples."

"I dinna think, wi' sic an opingon o' 'm, it can maitter muckle to you whether I like him or no," returned Mr Cupples, looking at her quizzically.

"Na, nae muckle as regairds him. But it says weel for you, ye ken, Mr

Cupples," replied Annie archly.

Mr Cupples laughed good-humouredly, and said,

"Weel, I s' gang and see him the morn's nicht, ony gait."

And so he did. And the porridge and the milk were both good.

"This is heumble fare, Mr Cupples," said Thomas.

"It maitters little compairateevely what a man lives upo'," said Cupples sententiously, "sae it be first-rate o' 'ts ain kin'. And this is first-rate."

"Tak' a drappy mair, sir."

"Na, nae mair, I thank ye."

"They'll be left, gin ye dinna."

"Weel, sen' them ower to Mr Bruce," said Cupples, with a sly wink. "I s' warran' he'll coup them ower afore they sud be wastit. He canna bide waste."