“But it’s a blessed and honourable state, Sanders; ye’ve heard the minister on ‘t.” “They say,” continued the relentless Sanders, “‘at the minister doesna get on sair wi’ the wife himsel’.” “So they do,” cried Sam’l, with a sinking at the heart. “I’ve been telt,” Sanders went on, “‘at gin ye can get the upper han’ o’ the wife for a while at first, there’s the mair chance o’ a harmonious exeestence.” “Bell’s no the lassie,” said Sam’l, appealingly, “to thwart her man.” Sanders smiled. “D’ ye think she is, Sanders?” “Weel, Sam’l, I d’na want to fluster ye, but she’s been ower-lang wi’ Lisbeth Fargus no to hae learned her ways. An’ a’body kins what a life T’nowhead has wi’ her.” “Guid sake, Sanders, hoo did ye no speak o’ this afore?” “I thocht ye kent o’ ‘t, Sam’l.” They had now reached the square, and the U. P. kirk was coming out. The Auld Licht kirk would be half an hour yet. “But, Sanders,” said Sam’l, brightening up, “ye was on yer wy to speer her yersel’.” “I was, Sam’l,” said Sanders, “and I canna but be thankfu’ ye was ower-quick for ‘s.” “Gin ‘t hadna been you,” said Sam’l, “I wid never hae thocht o’ ‘t.” “I’m saying naething agin Bell,” pursued the other, “but, man, Sam’l, a body should be mair deleeberate in a thing o’ the kind.” “It was michty hurried,” said Sam’l wofully. “It’s a serious thing to speer a lassie,” said Sanders. “It’s an awfu’ thing,” said Sam’l. “But we’ll hope for the best,” added Sanders, in a hopeless voice. They were close to the tenements now, and Sam’l looked as if he were on his way to be hanged. “Sam’l!” “Ay, Sanders.” “Did ye--did ye kiss her, Sam’l?” “Na.” “Hoo?” “There’s was varra little time, Sanders.” “Half an ‘oor,” said Sanders. “Was there? Man Sanders, to tell ye the truth, I never thocht o’ ‘t.” Then the soul of Sanders Elshioner was filled with contempt for Sam’l Dickie. The scandal blew over. At first it was expected that the minister would interfere to prevent the union, but beyond intimating from the pulpit that the souls of Sabbath-breakers were beyond praying for, and then praying for Sam’l and Sanders at great length, with a word thrown in for Bell, he let things take their course. Some said it was because he was always frightened lest his young men should intermarry with other denominations, but Sanders explained it differently to Sam’l. “I hav’na a word to say agin’ the minister,” he said; “they’re gran’ prayers; but, Sam’l, he’s a mairit man himsel’.” “He’s a’ the better for that, Sanders, isna he?” “Do ye no see,” asked Sanders, compassionately, “‘at he’s trying to mak’ the best o’ ‘t?” “O Sanders, man!” said Sam’l. “Cheer up, Sam’l,” said Sanders; “it’ll sune be ower.”