WHEN THE KYE COMES HAME.
That night Saunders went up over the hill again, dressed in his
best. He was not a proud lover, and he did not take a rebuff
amiss; besides, he had something to tell Meg Kissock. When he got
to Craig Ronald, the girls were in the byre at the milking, and at
every cow's tail there stood a young man, rompish Ebie Farrish at
that at which Jess was milking, and quiet Jock Forrest at Meg's.
Ebie was joking and keeping up a fire of running comment with
Jess, whose dark-browed gipsy face and blue-black wisps of hair
were set sideways towards him, with her cheek pressed upon Lucky's
side, as she sent the warm white milk from her nimble fingers,
with a pleasant musical hissing sound against the sides of the
milking-pail.
Farther up the byre, Meg leaned her head against Crummy and milked
steadily. Apparently she and Jock Forrest were not talking at all.
Jock looked down and only a quiver of the corner of his beard
betrayed that he was speaking. Meg, usually so outspoken and full
of conversation, appeared to be silent; but really a series of
short, low-toned sentences was being rapidly exchanged, so swiftly
that no one, standing a couple of yards away, could have remarked
the deft interchange.
But as soon as Saunders Mowdiewort came to the door, Jock Forrest
had dropped Crummy's tail, and slipped silently out of the byre,
even before Meg got time to utter her usual salutation of--
"Guid een to ye, Cuif! Hoo's a' the session?"
It might have been the advent of Meg's would-be sweetheart that
frightened Jock Forrest away, or again he might have been in the
act of going in any case. Jock was a quiet man who walked sedately
and took counsel of no one. He was seldom seen talking to any man,
never to a woman--least of all to Meg Kissock. But when Meg had
many "lads" to see her in the evening, he could he observed to
smile an inward smile in the depths of his yellow beard, and a
queer subterranean chuckle pervaded his great body, so that on one
occasion Jess looked up, thinking that there were hens roosting in
the baulks overhead.
Jess and Ebie pursued their flirtation steadily and harmlessly, as
she shifted down the byre as cow after cow was relieved of her
richly perfumed load, rumbling and clinking neck chains, and
munching in their head-stalls all the while. Saunders and Meg were
as much alone as if they had been afloat on the bosom of Loch
Grannoch.
"Ye are a bonny like man," said Meg, "to tak' yer minny to speak
for ye before the session. Man, I wonder at ye. I wonder ye didna
bring her to coort for ye?"
"War ye ever afore the Session, Meg?"
"Me afore the session--ye're a fule man, but ye dinna ken what yer
sayin'--gin I thocht ye did--"
Here Meg became so violently agitated that Flecky, suffering from
the manner in which Meg was doing her duty, kicked out, and nearly
succeeded in overturning the milk-pail. Meg's quickness with hand
and knee foiled this intention, but Flecky succeeded quite in
planting the edge of her hoof directly on the Cuif's shin-bone.
Saunders thereupon let go Flecky's tail, who instantly switched it
into Meg's face with a crack like a whip.
"Ye great muckle senseless hullion!" exclaimed Meg, "gin ye are
nae use in the byre, gang oot till ye can learn to keep haud o' a
coo's tail! Ye hae nae mair sense than an Eerishman!"
There was a pause. The subject did not admit of discussion, though
Saunders was a cuif, he knew when to hold his tongue--at least on
most occasions.
"An' what brocht ye here the nicht, Cuif?" asked Meg, who, when
she wanted information, knew how to ask it directly, a very rare
feminine accomplishment.
"To see you, Meg, my dawtie," replied Saunders, tenderly edging
nearer.
"Yer what?" queried Meg with asperity; "I thocht that ye had
aneuch o' the session already for caa'in' honest fowk names; gin
ye begin wi' me, ye'll get on the stool o' repentance o' yer ain
accord, afore I hae dune wi' ye!"
"But, Meg, I hae telled ye afore that I am sair in need o' a wife.
It's byordinar' [extraordinary] lonesome up in the hoose on the
hill. An' I'm warned oot, Meg, so that I'll look nae langer on the
white stanes o' the kirkyaird."
"Gin ye want a wife, Saunders, ye'll hae to look oot for a deef
yin, for it's no ony or'nar' woman that could stand yer mither's
tongue. Na, Saunders, it wad be like leevin' i' a corn-mill
rinnin' withoot sheaves."
"Meg," said Saunders, edging up cautiously, "I hae something to
gie ye!"
"Aff wi' ye, Cuif! I'll hae nae trokin' wi' lads i' the byre--na,
there's a time for everything--especial wi' widowers, they're the
warst o' a'--they ken ower muckle. My granny used to say, gin
Solomon couldna redd oot the way o' a man wi' a maid, what wad he
hae made o' the way o' a weedower that's lookin' for his third?"