'Twas a' for fun, ye ken," said Alec, addressing Thomas.
"There's a heap o' fun," answered Thomas with solemnity, "that carries deith i' the tail o' 't.

Here's the puir cripple laddie's rabbit as deid's a herrin', and him at hame greetin' his een oot, I daursay." Alec caught up his cap and made for the door.
"I'll gang and see him.

Curly, wha has ony rabbits to sell ?" "Doddles's cleckit aboot a month ago." "Whaur does Doddles bide ?" "I'll lat ye see." The boys were hurrying together from the shop, when Thomas caught Alec by the arm.
"Ye canna restore the rabbit, Alec." "Hoot! Thamas, ae rabbit's as guid's anither," interposed the smith, in a tone indicating disapprobation, mingled with a desire to mollify.
"Ay--to them 'at cares for neither.

But there's sic a thing as a human election, as weel's a divine ane; an' ane's no the same's anither, ance it's a chosen ane." "Weel, I pity them 'at the Lord has no pity upo'," sighed the smith, with a passing thought of his own fits of drinking.
"Gang ye and try him.

He may hae pity upo' you--wha kens ?" said Thomas, as he followed Alec, whom he had already released, out of the shop.
"Ye see, Alec," he resumed in a low voice, when they were in the open air--Curly going on before them, "it's time 'at ye was growin' a man, and pittin' awa' childish things.