Howglen. At length, that is, in
about ten days, he began to settle down into sobriety of demeanour. The
first thing that sobered him was a hint of yellow upon a field of oats.
He began at once to go and see the people of Glamerton, and called upon
Thomas Crann first.

He found him in one of his gloomy moods, which however were much less
frequent than they had been.

"Hoo are ye, auld frien'?" said Cupples.

"Auld as ye say, sir, and nae muckle farrer on nor whan I begud. I
whiles think I hae profited less than onybody I ken. But eh, sir, I wad
be sorry, gin I was you, to dee afore I had gotten a glimp o' the face
o' God."

"Hoo ken ye that I haena gotten a glimp o' that same?"

"Ye wad luik mair solemn like," answered Thomas.

"Maybe I wad," responded Cupples, seriously.

"Man, strive to get it. Gie Him no rist, day nor nicht, till ye get it.
Knock, knock, knock, till it be opened till ye."

"Weel, Thomas, ye dinna seem sae happy yersel', efter a'. Dinna ye
think ye may be like ane that's tryin' to see the face o' whilk ye
speyk throu a crack i' the door, in place o' haein patience till it's
opened?"

But the suggestion was quite lost upon Thomas, who, after a gloomy
pause, went on.

"Sin's sic an awfu' thing," he began; when the door opened, and in
walked James Dow.

His entrance did not interrupt Thomas, however.

"Sin's sic an awfu' thing! And I hae sinned sae aften and sae lang,
that maybe He'll be forced efter a' to sen' me to the bottomless pit."

"Hoot, hoot, Thamas! dinna speyk sic awfu' things," said Dow. "They're
dreadfu' to hearken till. I s' warran' He's as kin'-hertit as yersel."

James had no reputation for piety, though much for truthfulness and
honesty. Nor had he any idea how much lay in the words he had hastily
uttered. A light-gleam grew and faded on Thomas's face.

"I said, he micht be _forced_ to sen' me efter a'."

"What, Thomas!" cried Cupples. "He _cudna_ save ye! Wi' the Son and the
Speerit to help him? And a willin' hert in you forbye? Fegs! ye hae a
greater opinion o' Sawtan nor I gied ye the discredit o'."

"Na, na; it's nae Sawtan. It's mysel'. I wadna lay mair wyte (blame)
upo' Sawtan's shouthers nor's his ain. He has eneuch already, puir
fallow!"

"Ye'll be o' auld Robbie Burns's opinion, that he 'aiblins micht still
hae a stake.'"

"Na, na; he has nane. Burns was nae prophet."

"But jist suppose, Thomas--gin the de'il war to repent."

"Man!" exclaimed the stone