“Never.”

“Weel, then, I have; and by a widow woman too.  His name was Samson, and if it had been Tamson she would hae ta’en him.  Ay, you may look, but it’s true.  Her name was Turnbull, and she had another gent after her, name o’ Tibbets.  She couldna make up her mind atween them, and for a while she just keeped them dangling on.  Ay, but in the end she took Tibbets.  And what, think you, was her reason?  As you ken, thae grand folk has their initials on their spoons and nichtgowns.  Ay, weel, she thocht it would be mair handy to take Tibbets, because if she had ta’en the minister the T’s would have had to be changed to S’s.  It was thoctfu’ o’ her.”

“Is Tibbets living?” asked Haggart sharply.

“No; he’s dead.”

“What,” asked Haggart, “was the corp to trade?”

“I dinna ken.”

“I thocht no,” said Haggart, triumphantly.  “Weel, I warrant he was a minister too.  Ay, catch a woman giving up a minister, except for another minister.”

All were looking on Haggart with admiration, when a voice from the door cried—­

“Listen, and I’ll tell you a queerer ane than that.”

“Dagont,” cried Birse, “it’s Wearywarld, and he has been hearkening.  Leave him to me.”

When the post returned, the conversation was back at Mr. Dishart.

“Yes, lathies,” Haggart was saying, “daftness about women comes to all, gentle and simple, common and colleged, humourists and no humourists.  You say Mr. Dishart has preached ower muckle at women to stoop to marriage, but that makes no differ.  Mony a humorous thing hae I said about women, and yet Chirsty has me.  It’s the same wi’ ministers.  A’ at aince they see a lassie no’ unlike ither lassies, away goes their learning, and they skirl out, ’You dawtie!’ That’s what comes to all.”

“But it hasna come to Mr. Dishart,” cried Rob Dow, jumping to his feet.  He had sought Haggart to tell him all, but now he saw the wisdom of telling nothing.  “I’m sick o’ your blathers.  Instead o’ the minister’s being sweethearting yesterday, he was just at the Kaims visiting the gamekeeper.  I met him in the Wast town-end, and gaed there and back wi’ him.”

“That’s proof it’s a Glasgow leddy,” said Snecky.

“I tell you there’s no leddy ava!” swore Rob.

“Yea, and wha sends the baskets o’ flowers, then?”

“There was only one flower,” said Rob, turning to his host.

“I aye understood,” said Haggart heavily, “that there was only one flower.”

“But though there was just ane,” persisted Chirsty, “what we want to ken is wha gae him it.”

“It was me that gae him it,” said Rob; “it was growing on the roadside, and I plucked it and gae it to him.”

The company dwindled away shamefacedly, yet unconvinced; but Haggart had courage to say slowly—­

“Yes, Rob, I had aye a notion that he got it frae you.”