In our excitement Archie and I forgot about our Sabbath hats, reposing quietly below a whin bush on the links.
We were not destined to escape without detection.

As ill luck would have it, Mr Murdoch had been taken ill with the stomach-ache after the second psalm, and the congregation had been abruptly dispersed.

My mother had waited for me at the church door, and, seeing no signs of her son, had searched the gallery.

Then the truth came out, and, had I been only for a mild walk on the links, retribution would have overtaken my truantry.

But to add to this I arrived home with a scratched face, no hat, and several rents in my best trousers.