Mr. Soulis wasna weel pleased that this fearsome gangrel suld mak' sae
free wi' Ba'weary manse; an' he ran the harder, an' wet shoon, ower the
burn, an' up the walk; but the deil a black man was there to see. He
stepped out upon the road, but there was naebody there; he gaed a' ower
the gairden, but na, nae black man. At the hinder end, and a bit feard
as was but natural, he lifted the hasp and into the manse; and there was
Janet M'Clour before his een, wi' her thrawn craig, and nane sae pleased
to see him. And he aye minded sinsyne, when first he set his een upon
her, he had the same cauld and deidy grue.
"Janet," says he, "have you seen a black man?"
"A black man?" quo' she. "Save us a'! Ye 're no wise, minister. There's
nae black man in a' Ba'weary."
But she didna speak plain, ye maun understand; but yam-yammered, like a
powny wi' the bit in its moo.
"Weel," says he, "Janet, if there was nae black man, I have spoken with
the Accuser of the Brethren."
And he sat down like ane wi' a fever, an' his teeth chittered in his
heid.
"Hoots!" says she, "think shame to yoursel', minister," an' gied him a
drap brandy that she keept aye by her.
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