“But, I wonder,” I said, “that Mr. Dishart chose such a subject to-day.  I thought he would be on the riot at both services.”

“You’ll wonder mair,” said Elspeth, “when you hear what happened afore he began the afternoon sermon.  But I canna get in a word wi’ that man o’ mine.”

“We’ve been speaking about it,” said Birse, “ever since we left the kirk door.  Tod, we’ve been sawing it like seed a’ alang the glen.”

“And we meant to tell you about it at once,” said Waster Lunny; “but there’s aye so muckle to say about a minister.  Dagont, to hae ane keeps a body out o’ languor.  Aye, but this breaks the drum.  Dominie, either Mr. Dishart wasna weel or he was in the devil’s grip.”

This startled me, for the farmer was looking serious.

“He was weel eneuch,” said Birse, “for a heap o’ fowk spiered at Jean if he had ta’en his porridge as usual, and she admitted he had.  But the lassie was skeered hersel’, and said it was a mercy Mrs. Dishart wasna in the kirk.”

“Why was she not there?” I asked anxiously.

“Ou, he winna let her out in sic weather.”

“I wish you would tell me what happened,” I said to Elspeth.

“So I will,” she answered, “if Waster Lunny would haud his wheest for a minute.  You see the afternoon diet began in the ordinary way, and a’ was richt until we came to the sermon.  ‘You will find my text,’ he says, in his piercing voice, ‘in the eighth chapter of Ezra.’”

“And at thae words,” said Waster Lunny, “my heart gae a loup, for Ezra is an unca ill book to find; ay, and so is Ruth.”

“I kent the books o’ the Bible by heart,” said Elspeth, scornfully, “when I was a sax-year-auld.”

“So did I,” said Waster Lunny, “and I ken them yet, except when I’m hurried.  When Mr. Dishart gave out Ezra he a sort o’ keeked round the kirk to find out if he had puzzled onybody, and so there was a kind o’ a competition among the congregation wha would lay hand on it first.  That was what doited me.  Ay, there was Ruth when she wasna wanted, but Ezra, dagont, it looked as if Ezra had jumped clean out o’ the Bible.”

“You wasna the only distressed crittur,” said his wife.  “I was ashamed to see Eppie McLaren looking up the order o’ the books at the beginning o’ the Bible.”

“Tibbie Birse was even mair brazen,” said the post, “for the sly cuttie opened at Kings and pretended it was Ezra.”

“None o’ thae things would I do,” said Waster Lunny, “and sal, I dauredna, for Davit Lunan was glowering ower my shuther.  Ay, you may scowl at me, Elspeth Proctor, but as far back as I can mind Ezra has done me.  Mony a time afore I start for the kirk I take my Bible to a quiet place and look Ezra up.  In the very pew I says canny to mysel’, ‘Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, Job,’ the which should be a help, but the moment the minister gi’es out that awfu’ book, away goes Ezra like the Egyptian.”

“And you after her,” said Elspeth, “like the weavers that wouldna fecht.  You make a windmill of your Bible.”