"Not so free," said I, for I knew my cousin Gilbert. "The men I’ve to deal with have no more respect for the Lord’s day than you have for a Popish fast, so we must put that out of account." "Weel, weel," said Nicol, "if that’s sae it maun be sae. Will ye gang oot wi’ him the day?" "No," said I, "not that I am caring for the day, for you mind the proverb, ’the better the day the better the work,’ but, being in a foreign land, I am loth to break with the customs of my country. So we’ll keep the Sabbath, Nicol my lad, and let Gilbert whistle." Now I would not have him who may read this narrative think, from my conduct on this occasion, that I was whiggishly inclined, for, indeed, I cared naught about such little matters. I would have a man use the Sabbath like any other day, saving that, as it seems to me, it is a day which may profitably be used for serious reading and meditation. But I was ever of a curious disposition, liking to be always in mind of Tweeddale and the folk there, so that I kept the Sabbath during my life abroad as strictly as a covenanting minister on the moors of Ayr. "Weel, Laird, that means ye’ll no see the body though he comes," said Nicol, "and, God help me, if ye dae that there’ll be a terrible stramash at the street door. I’se warrant auld Mistress Vanderdecker ’ll get her ribs knockit in if she tries to keep them oot." "They can make all the noise they please," said I hotly, "but if it comes to that the two of us are as good as their bit officers. I ask for nothing better than to take some of the pride out of Gilbert’s friends with the flat of my sword. Then if they come to-day and are refused entrance, they will come back to-morrow, and all will be well."