“ Hoo lang will it be till ye learn to chap at the door o’ a lady's
sanktom before ye gang ben? Hae ye no’ read o’ great
thinkers haem’ their trains o’ thoeht broken by the wanton
interruption o’ senseless folk ? ” I felt I had great power o’
expression that day.
“ 0,” says he, kind o’ vexed like, “ I didna ken ye were engaged. There wis something on my mind I wanted to ask ye aboot, but I can wait till again.’’
I admit I wis curious as to what the laddie had to say for he had a face that, wi’ doonricht seriousness, looked for a’ the world like Jamie Thrum’s fiddle.
“ Weel,” quoth I, “I’m geyan busy the day, but if ye hae onything on yer mind that’s fashin’ ye, maybe the suner ye tell me’t the better.”
Noo, ye will hardly believe me when I mention what serious thochts had been passin’ through that callant’s head. He had made by-ordinar’ progress wi’ the Catechism; it seemed nae langer a task to him. For some weeks back, when ither laddies were playin’ at fitba’ and siclike gymnastic games, he wud sit in his wee room read, readin’ awa’ at the Question Book ; in fact he seemed to have ta’en a likin’ till’t, and though his questions whiles showed he hadna grippet the kittle doctrines by the richt en’, still-an’-on he had a wonnerfu’ uptak’ for a callant o’ his years. It would seem that Dr. Langchaffs, the Cameronian minister, had been preachin’ the nicht afore on the “Decrees,” and, amang ither things, had spoken o’ the salvation o’ elect infants; but stated in a wye that I think wis maybe dogmatic enough, that bairns who werena amang the elect number were lost. In support o’ this doctrine he quoted the “Confession o’ Faith,” the which Willie had been puzzlin’ ower sin’ syne, an’ wis in a bonny state when he cam’ to speak aboot it.
