"Ca' ye that no hairm?" rejoined Thomas, pulling the dead rabbit out of his pocket, and holding it up by the ears. "Ca' ye that no hairm?" he repeated. Alec stared in dismay. Thomas well knew his regard for animals, and had calculated upon it. "Luik at the puir thing wi' its bonny reid een closed for ever! It's a mercy to think 'at there's no lemin' and lowin' (blazing and flaming) future in store for hit, puir mappy (bunny)!" "Hoot, hoot, Thamas, man! Isna that bein' richteous overmuch, as oor minister wad say?" The question came in the husky voice of Peter Whaup, the blacksmith, who was now discovered leaning in over the half-door of the shop. "And wha's _your_ minister, Peter, my man?" retorted Thomas, with some acrimony. "Mr Cooie, as ye weel ken, Thamas." "I thoucht as muckle. The doctrine savours o' the man, Peter. There's no fear o' him or ony o' his followers bein' richteous over-much." "Weel, ye ken, that's naething but a rabbit i' yer han'. It wad hae been worried some day. Hoo cam' 't by 'ts deith?" "I didna mean to kill't. 'Twas a' for fun, ye ken," said Alec, addressing Thomas. "There's a heap o' fun," answered Thomas with solemnity, "that carries deith i' the tail o' 't. Here's the puir cripple laddie's rabbit as deid's a herrin', and him at hame greetin' his een oot, I daursay." Alec caught up his cap and made for the door. "I'll gang and see him. Curly, wha has ony rabbits to sell?" "Doddles's cleckit aboot a month ago." "Whaur does Doddles bide?" "I'll lat ye see." The boys were hurrying together from the shop, when Thomas caught Alec by the arm. "Ye canna restore the rabbit, Alec." "Hoot! Thamas, ae rabbit's as guid's anither," interposed the smith, in a tone indicating disapprobation, mingled with a desire to mollify. "Ay--to them 'at cares for neither. But there's sic a thing as a human election, as weel's a divine ane; an' ane's no the same's anither, ance it's a chosen ane." "Weel, I pity them 'at the Lord has no pity upo'," sighed the smith, with a passing thought of his own fits of drinking. "Gang ye and try him. He may hae pity upo' you--wha kens?" said Thomas, as he followed Alec, whom he had already released, out of the shop. "Ye see, Alec," he resumed in a low voice, when they were in the open air--Curly going on before them, "it's time 'at ye was growin' a man, and pittin' awa' childish things. Yer mither 'll be depen'in' upo' you, or lang, to haud things gaein'; and ye ken gin ye negleck yer chance at the school, yer time'll no come ower again. Man, ye sud try to do something for conscience-sake. Hae ye learnt yer lessons for the morn, noo?" "No, Thomas. But I will. I'm jist gaein' to buy a pair o' rabbits to Truffey; and syne I'll gang hame." "There's a guid lad. Ye'll be a comfort till yer mither some day yet." With these words, Thomas turned and left them.