So he walked to Howglen the next day, and found him with
Alec in the harvest-field. And Alec's reception of Thomas showed what a
fine thing illness is for bringing people to their right minds.
Mr Cupples walked aside with Thomas, and they seated themselves on two
golden sheaves at the foot of a stook.
"What ye said to me the ither day, sir," began Thomas, "has stucken
fest i' my crap, ever sin' syne. We maun hae him oot."
"Na, na; ye better lat him sit. He'll haud doon yer pride. That man's a
judgment on ye for wantin' to be better nor yer neebors. Dinna try to
win free o' judgment. But I'll tell ye what I wad hae ye do: Mak muckle
o' 'm. Gie him tether eneuch. He'll gang frae ill to waur, ye may
depen'. He'll steal or a' be dune."
"To the best o' my belief, sir, that's no to come, He's stolen already,
or I'm sair mista'en."
"Ay! Can ye pruv that? That's anither maitter," returned Cupples,
beginning to be interested.
"I dinna ken whether I oucht to hae mentioned it to ane that wasna a
member, though; but it jist cam oot o' 'tsel' like."
"Sae the fac' that a man's a member wha's warst crime may be that he is
a member, maks him sic precious gear that he maunna be meddlet wi' i'
the presence o' an honest man, wha, thank God, has neither pairt nor
lot in ony sic maitter?"
"Dinna be angry, Mr Cupples.
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