'What hae ye in yon creel? Mistress,' cried Kilgour to his wife. 'We can bide nae langer for Meizie, she'll be danderin' alang wi' some laad nae doubt and niver thinkin' o' hiz. Here wi' yer creel, Johnnie! an' gie's a bannack a' round. I'm rael hungry. An' syne we'll hae a pipe, Stephen Boague, you an' me, an' here comes Peter Malloch, he's a graund chield for a crack. Hech! Peter Malloch, sit down, ye'll eat a bit, an' hae ye settled yet about pettin' up the new kirk?' 'A weel I'm thinkin' we'll hae't settled braw an' sure noo. We'se get a piece off Widdie Forester's kale-yard be like, gin we can raise the siller. We'll hae to mak an effort to do that, as Mester Dowlas says, an' it'll be a kittle job, but pet a stiff shouther till a stey brae, as the folk says. We maun ca' a meetin' I'm thinkin', an' hae him to speak, he's a graund man to crack the bawbees out o' folk's pouches.' 'Ou ay!' ejaculated Stephen, 'He's a gude man, but unco worldly! He's aye cryin' about the pennies an' the sustentation fund. Nae fear o' _him_ gaun a warfare at his ain charges!' 'An' belike ye'd cry about the pennies yersel', Stephen Boague, gin ye'd naething else to lippin til.' 'Weel, that was aye what I liket best about the auld Kirk! A' thing was proveedet, "without money an' without price," an' that's Scripter. Juist the sincere milk of the word an' naething to pay for't!' 'I'd think shame o' mysel', Stephen Boague,' broke in his wife, 'to speak like that! An' ca' ye yon the word at's preached up by at Kilrundle? A curran Erastian havers! Settin' up the law o' the land ower the word o' God, an' the will o' the Coort o' Session abune the General Assembly o' the Kirk! My certie! I'se no ca' yon the milk o' the word. It's grown sooer wi' ill keepin'! A wersh savourless gospel, for puir starved sauls, hungerin' for the truith an' gettin' naething but a clash o' cauld parritch!' A weel! gude wife, _ye_ maun hae yer say, but gin ye had to fin' the pennies ye'd maybe no be sae glib! an' but twa e'y pouch to buy the sneeshin'.' 'Haud yer tongue, Stephen! an' fill yer pipe,' said the hospitable Angus, 'It's no expecket that the puir man's to pay the same as the weel-aff folk, out o' their abundance.' 'An' wha's the man to say that Stephen Boague did na pay his way the best? I'd like to ken. Na, na! It's juist anither patch on the auld breeks, an' weel the gude wife kens whaur to clap it on! an' the siller's saved. But a man beut to hae his grum'le.' 'An' wasna yon a fine preachin' the day?' asked Peter Malloch, who being a deacon, felt bound to lead the conversation into an improving groove, especially for the good of the young, and Meizie had now joined the circle followed by William the footman at Inchbracken, absent on leave to visit his sick mother.