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"'Na, na, says Davie, 'but it's the fast day, an' I canna stand it ony longer. I'm gaun ower the burn to hae a whustle. Wasna that fair redeek'lus!" "Quite ingenious," answered Mr. Blake. "You go to that church, I suppose?" "Na, I dinna. I quit it when they brocht the kist o' whustles intill't. I wadna stand it.
And when he came to die oh, in a very, very few years, for they must remember that "a doggie isna as lang-leevin' as folk" they must not forget that Bobby would not be permitted to be buried in the kirkyard. "We'll gie 'im a grand buryin'," said Tammy. "We'll find a green brae by a babblin' burn aneath a snawy hawthorn, whaur the throstle sings an' the blackbird whustles."
"What for div we need anither motion?" said Thomas Laidlaw, evidently perplexed. "There's nane o' us gaun to gie in to thae man-made hymes an' their kist o' whustles wad be fair redeek'lus." "Let us hear what they have to say in its behalf," said Mr. Blake. "Every honest man should be open to conviction."
"Man, auld John Knox will turn over in his bit grave in Parliament Close if you put a 'kist o' whustles' in St. Giles." Mr. Traill laughed. "I admit I might have stopped short of the organ but for the courageous example of Doctor Lee in Greyfriars. It was from him that I had a quite extravagant account of this wee, leal Highlander a few years ago.
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