moments.

"Oh, aren't you glad you didn't die of the measles and miss
this?" Sandy said to Alan, rolling over on his back and waving
his legs in the air as he finished his third egg. Alan's mouth
was too full for a reply other than a cordial grunt.

"Why, Sandy Crumpet!" exclaimed Jean, reprovingly, "don't you
believe heaven is nicer than Scotland?"

"Maybe it is," Sandy admitted, doubtfully, "but I like this
better than sitting around playing on harps and trumpets the way
the angels do."

"Sandy Crumpet played the trumpet," howled Jock in derision.
"Indeed and indeed, Sandy, I like this better than having to hear
you." Then, before Sandy could think of an answer a memory of the
catechism crossed his mind, and he added as afterthought, "How do
you ken you're one of the elect, anyway, Sandy Crumpet? If you're
not, you'd not be playing on any trumpets, or harps either, but
like as not frying in the hot place like that bacon there."

Sandy rushed to the defense of his character. "I'm just as elect
as you are, Jock Campbell," he said.

This time Jock had no answer ready, and Jean reproved them both.
"Shame on you!" she said. "You'll neither one of you get so much
as a taste of heaven, I doubt, and you talking like that."

"Where will Angus Niel be going, then, when he dies?" asked Jock.