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At last the man, laying his "boax" on the ground, stood up to ease his spine, so that his face was visible. "Losh, it's Jock Gilmour, the orra man at Gourlay's! What'll he be doing out on the street at this hour of the day? I thocht he was always busy on the premises! Will Gourlay be sending him off with something to somebody? But no; that canna be. He would have sent it with the carts."
Weel, ye hae it! Ah sez; for if ye're that set on gettin' yer bit screechin' boax ma advice'll no hold ye back, so ye may get yer piece o' idolatory, Ah sez; 'but mark ma word! Ah sez, 'mark ma word, the day yon thing raises its noise an' pollutes the holy place Ah'll no resign.
It's fleein' here to this tea-meetin' an stravagin' yonder to some bit choir practise, an' here awa, there awa, until Ah dinna ken what's to be the end o' it! Aye, an' the next thing they've gotten intill their bit heids is that they must get a bit o' an idolatrous music boax for the kirk! Yon bit thistle heid o' a schoolmaister cam' till me aboot the thing the day; what d'ye think o' yon?"
"What's yon he's carrying on his shouther?" pondered Brodie. "It looks like a boax," said the Provost slowly, bending every effort of eye and mind to discover what it really was. He was giving his profoundest cogitations to the "boax." "It is a boax! But who is it though? I canna make him out." "Dod, I canna tell either; his head's so bent with his burden!"
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