The morning of Saturday came, and he recognized with a burst of agonizing
sweat, that he dared not even imagine his appearance before his
congregation: he had not one written word to read to them; and extempore
utterance was, from conscious vacancy, impossible to him; he could not
even call up one meaningless phrase to articulate! He flung his
concordance sprawling upon the floor, snatched up his hat and clerical
cane, and, scarce knowing what he did, presently found himself standing at
the soutar's door, where he had already knocked, without a notion of what
he was come to seek. The old parson, generally in a mood to quarrel with
the soutar, had always walked straight into his workshop, and greeted him
crouched over his work; but the new parson always waited on the doorstep
for Maggie to admit him.
She had opened the door wide ere he knew why he had come, or could think of
anything to say. And now he was in greater uneasiness than usual at the
thought of the cobbler's deep-set black eyes about to be fixed upon him, as
if to probe his very thoughts.
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