'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?' '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?'