The minister went in and surprised the goodwife in the midst of the clean and comely mysteries of the dairy.  From her, likewise, he received the warmest of welcomes.  The relation of minister and people in Galloway, specially among the poorer congregations who have to work hard to support their minister, is a very beautiful one.  He is their superior in every respect, their oracle, their model, their favourite subject of conversation; yet also in a special measure he is their property.  Saunders and Mary M’Quhirr would as soon have contradicted the Confession of Faith as questioned any opinion of the minister’s when he spoke on his own subjects.

On rotation of crops, and specially on “nowt” beasts, his opinion was “no worth a preen.”  It would not have been becoming in him to have a good judgment on these secularities.

The family and dependants were all gathered together in the wide, cool kitchen of Drumquhat, for it was the time for the minister’s catechising.  Saunders sat with his wife beside him.  The three sons—­Alec, James, and Rob—­sat on straight-backed chairs; Walter near by, his hand on his grandmother’s lap.

Question and answer from the Shorter Catechism passed from lip to lip like a well-played game in which no one let the ball drop.  It would have been thought as shameful if the minister had not acquitted himself at “speerin"’ the questions deftly and instantaneously as for one of those who were answering to fail in their replies.  When Rob momentarily mislaid the “Reasons Annexed” to the second commandment, and his very soul reeled in the sudden terror that they had gone from him for ever, his father looked at him as one who should say, “Woe is me that I have been the responsible means of bringing a fool into the world!” Even his mother looked at him wistfully, in a way that was like cold water running down his back, while Mr. Cameron said kindly, “Take your time, Robert!”

However, Rob recovered himself gallantly, and reeled off the Reasons Annexed with vigour.  Then he promised, under his breath, a sound thrashing to his model brother, James, who, having known the Catechism perfectly from his youth up, had yet refused to give a leading hint to his brother in his extremity.  Walter had his answers as ready as any of them.

Walter had, on one occasion, begun to attend a Sabbath school at the village, which was started by the enthusiastic assistant of the parish minister, whose church lay some miles over the moor.  Walter had not asked any permission of his seniors at the farm, but wandered off by himself to be present at the strange ceremonies of the opening.  There the Drumquhat training made him easily first of those who repeated psalms and said their Catechism.  A distinguished career seemed to be opening out before him, but a sad event happened which abruptly closed the new-fangled Sunday school.  The minister of the parish heard what his young “helper” had been doing over in Whunnyliggate, and he appeared in person on the following Sabbath when the exercises were in full swing.  He opened the door, and stood silently regarding, the stick dithering in both hands with a kind of senile fury.