'I unnerstan' that,' said Robert, who had heard it so often that he had not yet thought of trying to understand it. 'But gin we gang to the gude place, we'll be a' innocent, willna we, grannie?' 'Ay, that we will--washed spotless, and pure, and clean, and dressed i' the weddin' garment, and set doon at the table wi' him and wi' his Father. That's them 'at believes in him, ye ken.' 'Of coorse, grannie.--Weel, ye see, I hae been thinkin' o' a plan for maist han' toomin' (almost emptying) hell.' 'What's i' the bairn's heid noo? Troth, ye're no blate, meddlin' wi' sic subjecks, laddie!' 'I didna want to say onything to vex ye, grannie. I s' gang on wi' the chapter.' 'Ow, say awa'. Ye sanna say muckle 'at's wrang afore I cry haud,' said Mrs. Falconer, curious to know what had been moving in the boy's mind, but watching him like a cat, ready to spring upon the first visible hair of the old Adam. And Robert, recalling the outbreak of terrible grief which he had heard on that memorable night, really thought that his project would bring comfort to a mind burdened with such care, and went on with the exposition of his plan. 'A' them 'at sits doon to the supper o' the Lamb 'll sit there because Christ suffert the punishment due to their sins--winna they, grannie?' 'Doobtless, laddie.' 'But it'll he some sair upo' them to sit there aitin' an' drinkin' an' talkin' awa', an' enjoyin' themsel's, whan ilka noo an' than there'll come a sough o' wailin' up frae the ill place, an' a smell o' burnin' ill to bide.' 'What put that i' yer heid, laddie? There's no rizzon to think 'at hell's sae near haven as a' that. The Lord forbid it!' 'Weel, but, grannie, they'll ken 't a' the same, whether they smell 't or no. An' I canna help thinkin' that the farrer awa' I thoucht they war, the waur I wad like to think upo' them. 'Deed it wad be waur.' 'What are ye drivin' at, laddie? I canna unnerstan' ye,' said Mrs. Falconer, feeling very uncomfortable, and yet curious, almost anxious, to hear what would come next. 'I trust we winna hae to think muckle--' But here, I presume, the thought of the added desolation of her Andrew if she, too, were to forget him, as well as his Father in heaven, checked the flow of her words. She paused, and Robert took up his parable and went on, first with yet another question. 'Duv ye think, grannie, that a body wad be allooed to speik a word i' public, like, there--at the lang table, like, I mean?' 'What for no, gin it was dune wi' moedesty, and for a guid rizzon? But railly, laddie, I doobt ye're haverin' a'thegither. Ye hard naething like that, I'm sure, the day, frae Mr. Maccleary.' 'Na, na; he said naething aboot it. But maybe I'll gang and speir at him, though.' 'What aboot?' 'What I'm gaein' to tell ye, grannie.' 'Weel, tell awa', and hae dune wi' 't. I'm growin' tired o' 't.' It was something else than tired she was growing. 'Weel, I'm gaein' to try a' that I can to win in there.'