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Updated: June 7, 2025
Weel, when it got about the clachan that Janet M'Clour was to be servant at the manse, the folk were fair mad wi' her an' him thegether; and some o' the guidwives had nae better to dae than get round her door cheeks and chairge her wi' a' that was ken't again her, frae the sodger's bairn to John Tamson's twa kye.
"And I repeat my question," said M'Brair: "Are you fit fit for this great charge? fit to carry and save souls?" "Fit? Blethers! As fit 's yoursel'," cried Haddo. "Are you so great a self-deceiver?" said M'Brair. "Wretched man, trampler upon God's covenants, crucifier of your Lord afresh. I will ding you to the earth with one word: How about the young woman, Janet M'Clour?"
Them that kenned best said least; but they never gied that Thing the name o' Janet M'Clour; for the auld Janet, by their way o' 't, was in muckle hell that day.
But the scene between Curate Haddo and Janet M'Clour had also given him much to think of: and he was still puzzling over the case of the curate, and why such ill words were said of him, and why, if he were so merry-spirited, he should yet preach so dry, when coming over a knowe, whom should he see but Janet, sitting with her back to him, minding her cattle!
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