"
"Ye're no richt, frien', _there_. The suner a prodigal comes to the
swine the better!"
"Ay; that's what you richteous elder brithers think. I ken that weel
eneuch."
"Mr Cupples, I'm nae elder brither i' that sense. God kens I wad gang
oot to lat him in."
"What ken ye aboot him, gin it be a fair queston?"
"I hae kent him, sir, sin he was a bairn. I perilled his life???-no my
ain???-to gar him do his duty. I trust in God it wad hae been easier for
me to hae perilled my ain. Sae ye see I do ken aboot him."
"Weel," said Mr Cupples, to whom the nature of Thomas had begun to open
itself, "I alloo that. Whaur do ye bide? What's yer name? I'll come and
see ye the morn's nicht, gin ye'll lat me."
"My name's Thomas Crann. I'm a stonemason. Speir at Robert Bruce's
chop, and they'll direc ye to whaur I bide. Ye may come the morn's
nicht, and welcome. Can ye sup parritch?"
"Ay, weel that."
"My Jean's an extrornar han' at parritch. I only houp puir Esau had
half as guid for's birthricht. Ye'll hae a drappy wi' me?"
"Wi' a' my hert," answered Cupples.
And here their ways diverged.
When he reached home, he asked Annie about Thomas. Annie spoke of him
in the highest terms, adding,
"I'm glaid ye like him, Mr Cupples.
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