Ye hae never draan the soord o' the
Lord and o' Gideon. Ye hae never broken the pitcher, to lat the lamp
shine out, an' I doubt ye hae smo'red it by this time. And sae, whan
the bridegroom comes, ye'll be ill-aff for a licht."
"Hoot, man! dinna speak sic awfu' things i' the verra kirkyard."
"Better hear them i' the kirkyard than at the closed door, George!"
"Weel, but," rejoined Macwha, anxious to turn the current of the
conversation, which he found unpleasantly personal, "jist tell me
honestly, Thamas Crann, do ye believe, wi' a' yer heart an' sowl, that
the deid man--Gude be wi' him!--"
"No prayin' for the deid i' my hearin', George! As the tree falleth, so
it shall lie."
"Weel! weel! I didna mean onything."
"That I verily believe. Ye seldom do!"
"But I jist want to speir," resumed George, with some asperity, getting
rather nettled at his companion's persistent discourtesy, "gin ye
believe that Jeames Anderson here, honest man, aneath our feet,
crumblin' awa', as ye ken, and no ae spoke o' his wheel to the fore, or
lang, to tell what his cart was like--do ye believe that his honest
face will, ae day, pairt the mouls, an' come up again, jist here, i'
the face o' the light, the verra same as it vanished whan we pat the
lid ower him? Do ye believe that, Thamas Crann?"
"Na, na, George, man.
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