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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Malcolm"

That the people present should interest
themselves in such things, only set before him the folly of mankind.
The text and the preacher both kept telling him that such as he
could by no possibility have the slightest notion what such things
were; but not the less did he, as if he knew all about them, wonder
how the deluded fisher folk could sit and listen. The more tired
he grew, the more angry he got with the parson who had sent him
there with his foolery: and the more convinced that the men who
prayed and preached were as honest as they were silly; and that
the thing to die of itself had only to be let alone. He heard the
Amen of the benediction with a sigh of relief, and rose at once--
cautiously this time.
"Ye maunna gang yet, my lord," said Malcolm. "They maun be a' oot
first."
"I don't care who sees me," protested the weary man.
"But yer lordship wadna like to be descriet scram'lin' doon efter
the back like the bear in Robinson Crusoe!"
The marquis grumbled, and yielded impatiently.
At length Malcolm, concluding from the silence that the meeting had
thoroughly skailed, peeped cautiously out to make sure. But after
a moment, he drew back, saying in a regretful whisper,
"I 'm sorry ye canna gang yet, my lord. There's some half a dizzen
o' ill luikin' chields, cairds (gipsies), I 'm thinkin', or maybe
waur, congregat doon there, an' it 's my opinion they're efter nae
guid, my lord."
"How do you know that?"
"Ony body wad ken that, 'at got a glimp o' them.


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