Mr. Menzies, though not at all prepared for this sudden outburst of charity, welcomed it very sincerely. "I’m glad," said he, "to hear a man o’ your influence in the Session say sae." Menzies had himself personally experienced to a large degree the _dour_ influence of the draper over him; and though his better nature had often wished to rebel against it, yet the logical meshes of his more astute and strong-willed brother had hitherto entangled him. But now, with the liberty of speech granted in so genial a manner by Smellie, Mr. Menzies said, "I wull admit that Mr. Mercer was, until this unfortunate business happened, a maist respectable man--I mean he was apparently, and I wad fain houp sincerely--a quiet neebour, and a douce elder. I never had cause to doot him till the day ye telt me in confidence that he had been ance a poacher. But we mauna be ower hard, Mr. Smellie, on the sins o’ youth, or even o’ riper years. Ye mind the paraphrase--
"’For while the lamp holds on to burn, The greatest sinner may return’.
I wad do onything that was consistent to get him oot o’ this job wi’ the minister an’ the Session. But hoo can it be managed, Mr. Smellie?"
"I think," said Smellie, meditatively, "that if we could only get the minister pleased, things wad richt themsel’s."
"Between oorsel’s, as his freen’s," said Menzies, with a laugh, "he’s no’ easy to please when he tak’s a thraw! But maybe we’re as muckle to blame as him."
"That bird," remarked Smellie, as he poked up his almost extinguished fire, "has played a’ the mischief! Could we no’ get it decently oot o’ the way yet, Mr. Menzies?"
"What d’ye mean, neebour?" asked Menzies, looking puzzled.
"Weel, I’ll tell ye," replied the draper. "The Sergeant and me, ye ken, cast oot; but you and him, as well as the wife, are freendly. Noo, what do ye say to seeing them in a freendly way; and as the Sergeant is in bed----"
"They say it’s fivver," interrupted Menzies, "and may come to be verra dangerous."
"Weel a-weel," said Smellie, "in that case what I propose micht be easier dune: the wife micht gie you the bird, for peace’ sake--for conscience’ sake--for her guidman’s sake--and ye micht do awa’ wi’t, and the Sergeant ken naething about it; for, ye see, being an auld sodger, he’s prood as prood can be; and Mr. Porteous wad be satisfied, and maybe, for peace’ sake, wad never speer hoo it was dune, and we wad hae a guid excuse for sayin’ nae mair about it in the Session. If the Sergeant dee’d, nae hairm would be done; if he got weel, he wad be thankfu’ that the stramash was a’ ower, and himsel’ restored, wi’oot being pit aboot for his bird. Eh?"