"HEY! JOHNNIE COPE"
After that visit to Craig-Ellachie Gavin was a new person to Christina.
She was humiliated to remember that she had ever presumed to make fun
of him. He was good and kind and chivalrous, and Sandy was right when
he declared that Gavin knew far more than half the fellows around the
village who thought themselves so much smarter. Christina thought
about him often these soft slumbrous Autumn days and said to herself
that, should he ever ask to walk home with her again, she would surely
be much kinder than she had been. And she could not help wondering
just a little why he did not try.
Indeed, had Gavin only known, he was very near gaining his heart's
desire, when an unfortunate event snatched away his chance and tore him
down from the heights to which he had unconsciously risen.
All the previous Winter and Summer the Temperance Society, which was
the Presbyterian Choir, which was the Methodist Choir, had been
practising strenuously for a concert. This weekly choir practice was
really a community singing. Young and old, Presbyterians, Baptists and
Methodists went to it, and Tremendous K. led them. There was an inner
circle that sang on Sundays, in the Presbyterian Church in the morning
and the Methodist Church in the evening. And they sang in the Baptist
Church, too, on each alternate Sunday afternoon. For the Baptist
minister lived in Avondell, and gave Orchard Glen only two services a
month.
So this Union Choir decided to give a grand concert under the auspices
of the Temperance Society to raise money to buy new chairs for the
hall, and perhaps a new table if there was money enough. As the date
of the concert approached the practices were twice a week, and every
Tuesday and Thursday, from eight o'clock till half-past nine,
Tremendous K.'s big voice might be heard booming:
"Watch your time, there! Sing up, can't you? Give her a lift! Don't
pull as if you was haulin' a stun boat up the hill!"
It was just such drilling that had made the Orchard Glen choir famous
over the whole countryside, and caused them to be in demand for tea
meetings all through the Winter.
But the drilling was becoming wearisome, for the choir had been
practising for a very long time indeed. The date of the concert had
been set again and again, and on every occasion some other affair
interfered.
After many vicissitudes the date had been finally settled for the
evening of the first of October, and no sooner was it set, and set for
the twentieth time, too, than the Methodist minister announced a week
of special meetings at his church as there was an Evangelist available
at that date!
This was a serious affair and the Methodists in the choir were for
having another postponement.
"When's the concert to be?" asked Willie Brown one evening, as they
took a rest, and a paper bag of candy was passed round from Marmaduke.
"Haven't you been told straight ahead for a month that it's the first
of October!" cried Tremendous K. in his most tremendous voice, "and
it's not goin' to be a minute later, neither!"
"That's the first night of the special meetings in our church," put in
Minnie Brown, sharply, "and father wouldn't think of letting us come."
Tremendous K. scowled. "Looky here," he declared, "we've been putting
off this here concert for some dog fight or another for about two
years, and I don't care if King George the Third was goin' to have
special meetin's right in the hall that night, we're goin' to have that
concert!"
Tremendous K. was exceedingly loyal to both King and country, but he
could never remember which George it was that occupied the throne, and
had no notion of suggesting that one should rise from the dead.
"You don't call special services in a church a dogfight, I hope," put
in Tilly Holmes's father, his eyebrows bristling. Mr. Holmes was a
Baptist and had no intention of attending the Methodist meetings, but
he felt he ought to stand for the principle of the thing, especially as
Tremendous K. was a Presbyterian.
"I never said nothing of the sort!" denied the choir leader hotly,
being himself a bit troubled in his conscience. "But what I do say is
that we've put off this thing so that it can't be put off no longer if
it's to be sung before the crack o' doom! The concert's on the first
of October, or not at all. Here! all turn to page thirty-four, the
opening chorus, 'All's Well.' Everybody, whoop her up, now!"
That was the beginning of the trouble; the next evening the Browns and
several other good Methodists were not at practice and neither were the
Holmeses. Mr. Wylie, the Methodist minister, went to Mr. Sinclair
about it and Mr. Sinclair said it was no more a Presbyterian affair
than a Methodist. And the Baptist minister stood aloof and said he
always knew these union affairs would never bring anything but trouble.
The thinned ranks of the choir closed up, though the loss of the
Browns, who were all musical, was a staggering blow. Tilly Holmes
cried so hard that her father had to let her come back, and two or
three of the less faithful Methodists returned, pending the final
decision in regard to the date. And Tremendous K. went on, stubbornly
waving his baton in the face of the whole Methodist congregation.
No serious trouble might have arisen, however, had not the two who were
always a source of dissension in the village, put their wicked heads
together. To be quite fair, for once in their lives, Trooper Tom and
Marmaduke were without guile when they decided to invite old Piper
Lauchie McDonald from Glenoro to come and play at the concert. They
were merely actuated by the pure motive of making the entertainment
more attractive than the Methodist gathering, with, perhaps, the
subconscious thought that it was a question if Old Tory Brown, who was
Scotch, even if he were a Methodist, could resist leaving a mere
preaching to hear a real Piper. The two were willing to bet almost
anything on the superior attractions of the music, Duke offering to put
up his wooden leg against Trooper's Mounted Police Medal.
Tremendous K. was not very enthusiastic when, with great diplomacy,
Marmaduke suggested the bagpipes as an addition to the programme. The
Hendersons were very rigid concerning certain worldly amusements, and a
Piper was always associated with dancing and kindred foolishness. When
it was made clear that Lauchie would draw a crowd, which a Piper always
did, he yielded, and Marmaduke and Trooper borrowed The Woman's car,
and whirled away up over the hills to Glenoro one evening and invited
Lauchie to play in Orchard Glen on the night of the big concert.
Christina had been faithfully attending all the practices. She was not
a real choir member, but Tremendous K. said he couldn't get up a
concert without at least one Lindsay in it, and she was the only one
available. For John could not sing, Mary had lost interest in
everything outside Port Stewart, and Ellen was too busy with the
trousseau to attend to anything else.
On the evening of the last rehearsal, as Christina went down the hill
with a crowd of her girl friends, Tilly met them in great excitement.
"Wallace Sutherland's come home," she announced, breathlessly. "The
Doctor met him in town with his car, and he's going to stay a week
before he goes back to college. Mrs. Sutherland told Mrs. Sinclair and
she told ma."
This was surely interesting news. Wallace Sutherland had not been in
Orchard Glen for any length of time, since he was a little boy and went
to the public school. He was attending a University over in the great
United States, and spent his holidays with the wealthy uncle who was
paying his college bills. Mrs. Sutherland often went to Boston to
visit him and her rich brother, but Wallace had spent very little time
in the old home. Folks said that his mother was afraid of his becoming
familiar with the country folk and so kept him out of the way.
Christina laughed at Tilly and her news. The storekeeper's daughter
was always in a high state of excitement over some wonderful happening
in Orchard Glen, while Christina was prepared to testify that nothing
at all ever happened within the ring of its sleepy green hills, and she
immediately forgot all about Mr. Wallace Sutherland.
The next evening was the date of the concert, and excitement ran high.
When Trooper and Marmaduke had visited the Piper they had made
elaborate arrangements for his entry into Orchard Glen. He was to stay
with old Peter McNabb, a relative who lived about half-a-mile above the
village, until the hour for the concert had almost arrived, then he was
to come sweeping down the hill, when the crowds were gathering, and
march playing into the hall where he would open the proceedings. And
if he did not sweep all the folks around the Methodist church back into
the hall with him, then Trooper had missed his guess. Piper Lauchie
was a true Highlander, with a love of the dramatic, and he fell in with
the arrangements with all his heart. The Dunn farm was just next to
Old Peter's house, so early in the afternoon Trooper went over and
ascertained to his satisfaction that Lauchie was there, with his pipes
in fine tune. The two old men were smoking and telling tales of
pioneer days on the shores of Lake Simcoe, with as much zest as if they
were relating them for the first time instead of the forty-first. So,
with everything so well arranged, there was seemingly no cause for
anxiety, and not the most pessimistic Methodist could have prophesied
disaster.
The evening of October first was bright and warm, and at an early hour
the rival crowds began to gather; the worshippers and the revellers,
Mr. Wylie designated them in a remark made afterwards to Mr. Sinclair,
a remark the Presbyterian minister did not forget in a few weeks. The
Methodist church, which was up on the slope of the hill, began to fill
slowly and the Temperance hall, down near the store corner, rapidly. A
group of young men lingered at the door of the hall with their usual
inability to enter a meeting until a few minutes after the hour of
starting. There was also a small group at the door of the Methodist
church farther up the hill. They were not the customary loungers, but
a small self-appointed committee of the Methodist fathers on the
outlook for any of the flock who might stumble into the pitfall of the
Temperance hall on their way to church.
The visiting minister drove into the village, passed the hall in a
whirl of dust, and hurried into the church. Dusk was falling, the
lamps were lit in both gathering places and the light shone from the
windows.
It was now on the eve of eight o'clock, in another moment the meeting
on the hill would open, and the Piper had not yet appeared. Marmaduke
and Trooper, consulting in the middle of the street where there was a
view of the hill up as far as the Lindsay gate, were growing anxious.
It would be quite too bad if, after all their plans, the Piper should
fail them. Trooper was for going after the missing musician, but Duke
counselled patience. He fancied he saw a figure on the hill now and
any moment they might hear the pipes.
But eight o'clock came, the group of watchers on the hill moved inside,
and the strains of a hymn came through the open door and windows of the
Methodist church. There was no hope of catching any stray sheep in the
Piper's net now!
Tremendous K. came rushing out of the hall declaring that they could
not wait any longer, the boys were beginning to stamp and yell for the
programme, and Dr. McGarry was as mad as a wet hen. Then Dr. McGarry,
who was chairman, came right on his heels, his watch in his hand,
demanding what in common sense and thunder they meant by holding up the
meeting this way. That confounded piper of theirs could play for an
hour after he got here if he wanted to, but were they going to sit up
all night waiting for him? He had been called to go and see old Granny
Anderson just as soon as this show was over, and she wouldn't be likely
to put off dying until that Piper appeared as if he was Gabriel with
his trump!
The Doctor was a hard man to argue with when he was angry, inasmuch as
he did not stop talking at all, and so there was no chance to state
your case. So it was decided that the Choir had better sing the
opening chorus, while Trooper would go up the hill and hasten the
Piper's tune if possible, Duke remaining on guard at the door to see
that he did not enter during the rendering of some other selection.
So Tremendous K. and the Doctor dashed back into the hall and Trooper
ran up the village street. But before he had come to the bridge across
the stream, he discerned a figure appearing out of the dusk on the
hillside and the next moment, high, clear and thrilling sounded the
opening skirl of the pipes! Trooper gave a whoop of joy, and ran back
waving the good news which had already arrived on the evening breeze.
Marmaduke sent one of the boys flying into the Hall to see if the
programme would not wait another moment, but he was just a second too
late. The opening chorus, "All's Well," was started, and already they
could hear Joanna's voice on the high notes.
"Never mind," cried Marmaduke as Trooper ran up breathless, "he'll come
in as neat as a tack right after this piece, and we couldn't a' got any
more into the Hall anyway," he added gloatingly, "even if he'd been
playin' all day."
He was certainly playing now, and most enticingly. It was that
teasing, alluring lilt, "Tullochgorum," and Trooper went out into the
middle of the road and danced the Highland Fling to it, while Marmaduke
took his place opposite, hopping about in a cloud of dust, on his one
foot and holding up his peg leg in a very elegant fashion as a dainty
young lady might hold her train.
"Say, he'll bust the church windows when he's passin'!" cried Trooper,
stopping to listen to the music soaring louder and clearer. The night
was warm, and the doors and windows of the church were all wide open
and Piper Lauchie was making as much noise as a company of massed bands
marching past.
"It's turned out better than we intended," said Marmaduke in improper
glee. "Why didn't we think of it?"
Now, Piper Lauchie had not been in Orchard Glen that summer, and the
last occasion upon which he had visited the village had been on his way
home from a picnic, under rather merry circumstances which left his
memory of the place pleasantly hazy. Trooper had cautioned him to
march right into the hall on his arrival, explaining that the building
was on his left hand side after he crossed the bridge, and that he
could not miss it for it would be all lit up and he and Marmaduke would
be at the door to see him march triumphantly inside. So far he had
followed his instructions to the letter. He tuned up half way down the
hill and came marching across the bridge, and then the Dreadful Thing
happened.
It was almost dark by this time and surely neither the Piper nor
Trooper nor Marmaduke was to blame that the Methodist church should be
placed on the left hand side after you crossed the bridge, and that it
should be all lit up so that the Piper could not miss it! And he did
not miss it, either. The sight of the rows of heads against the
windows, all in the attitude of waiting, inspired the musician to
greater effort. He shifted his chanter a bit, put more wind into it,
and burst into a gayer and faster tune, and when he reached the bit of
sidewalk opposite the door of the Methodist church, he whirled about,
with a flirt of his kilt and a flip of his plaid, swept up the steps,
through the open door and went screaming up the church aisle right to
the pulpit steps, fairly raising the roof to the tune of "Hey! Johnnie
Cope, are ye waukin' yet?"
And all the while this terrible mishap was occurring, the Choir in the
hall farther down the street, just at the moment when all was going as
ill as human affairs could go, was singing in false security, "All's
Well!"
When Trooper and Duke, waiting admiringly in the middle of the road,
saw their charge suddenly disappear into the pitfall of the Methodist
church, they stood paralysed for one dreadful moment, like men who had
seen the earth open and swallow everything upon which they had set
their hearts. Then Trooper gave a terrific yell, the war whoop he had
learned on the prairie, and turned and looked at his companion in
disaster. Duke was beyond uttering even a yell. He collapsed silently
upon the grass by the roadside, and rolled back and forth in a kind of
convulsion, while Trooper staggered to the fence and hung limply over
it like a wet sack. And all the while inside the hall higher and
stronger and more confident, swelled the words of the chorus in
dreadful irony, "All's Well, All's Well!"
Nobody could ever quite explain how the Piper got ejected from the
church and transferred to the hall where he belonged. There were so
many conflicting reports.
Some said that Mr. Wylie gave him a solemn talking to upon the error of
his position, and the visiting minister upon the error of his ways,
being under the impression that he and old Peter had been drinking,
which, strange to say, was really not the case. Others declared that
the Piper did not stop playing long enough for any one to speak, but
went roaring up one aisle to come screeching down the other. No one
seemed quite clear on the subject, for the Methodists were too angry to
speak of the affair coherently and for a long time it was not safe to
ask them about it.
But upon one part of the history all eye-witnesses, except the Piper
himself, were agreed, and that was that Mrs. Johnnie Dunn left her seat
and chased the Piper down the church aisle with her umbrella. The
Woman would have preferred to attend the concert, though she was a
Methodist, but Trooper's lively interest in it had decided her to
adhere to her church, and she was not slow to take this opportunity of
showing her disapproval of his choice.
Whatever happened, Piper Lauchie did finally reach the hall, but he was
too angry to either play or speak. There was no sign of the committee
that was to meet him, for Trooper and Marmaduke had fled down the dark
alley between the hall and the blacksmith shop and were lying in an old
shed, trying to keep from shouting.
Gavin Grant had arrived late, after a very busy day, and with a little
group of boys had also witnessed the catastrophe. Gavin stepped up to
the old man to apologise and explain, but Lauchie shoved him aside and
marched noisily into the hall, ready to murder any one who stood in his
way.
He burst in just as Dr. McGarry arose and announced:
"Ladies and gentlemen, the next item on this programme is----"
And Piper Lauchie shouted from the back of the building in a high thin
yell:
"The next item will be that some one will be hafing his brains knocked
out, whatefer!"
And he tramped straight up the aisle to the platform, his old plaid
streaming from his shoulders, his pipes held like a drawn claymore.
The Chairman, like the rest of the crowd, had been listening to "All's
Well" and did not dream that things had been going otherwise. He stood
for a moment staring at the enraged Piper and then Gavin, who had just
slipped into his seat in the choir, leaned forward, and touching the
Chairman's elbow, strove to explain.
"Mr. McDonald went to the wrong meeting," he whispered, but he got no
farther.
Old Lauchie slammed his pipes down on the Chairman's table, upsetting a
glass of water and a big bouquet of flowers from Craig-Ellachie, and
turned upon Gavin, his fists clenched.
"I would be going to the wrong meeting, would I?" he shouted, and Gavin
backed away hastily. The old man pursued him hotly.
"It would be you and your fell tribe that would be sending me to the
Messodis meeting house!" he shouted. "Ta Messodis," he repeated in
withering scorn, "I'll Messodis you----"
Gavin was continuing to back away in a most ungallant fashion, till he
got to the wall and there was no means of escape, when rescue came from
an unexpected quarter.
Just at the end of the front row of seats, where the pursuit came to a
halt, Wallace Sutherland was sitting with his mother. He had been the
centre of many admiring glances, especially from the girls. And indeed
he was a fine-looking young fellow and it was no wonder that his uncle
was so proud of him and his mother so afraid. He was hugely enjoying
the Piper's tumultuous entry, and his black eyes were dancing with
delight, when the old man, his red blazing eyes fixed upon his supposed
enemy, was backing Gavin into a corner.
But Mrs. Sutherland, for all that Orchard Glen pronounced her proud and
cold, was a timid, gentle woman, and Lauchie's appearance filled her
with panic.
"Oh, Wallace, my dear," she whispered in alarm. "Oh, how dreadful.
He's going to strike him----"
Wallace was very loath to put an end to the fun, but he rose and
touched the enraged Piper on the arm.
"Mr. McDonald," he whispered tactfully, "my uncle, Dr. McGarry, is the
Chairman and he,--he's just a little bit nervous. Won't you get your
pipes and play for us? He doesn't know what to do next, and we've been
waiting anxiously to hear you."
Wallace Sutherland's charming manner seldom failed him and it did not
now. The Piper looked at him and the fierce rage died from his eyes.
The clenched fists dropped to his side and Gavin slipped into a seat.
Wallace nodded to his uncle and Dr. McGarry hastily announced, without
any embarrassing explanations, that the Piper had been unavoidably
delayed but that he was now ready to favour them with a selection for
which they were all so anxiously waiting.
So Lauchie shouldered his instrument and took his place on the
platform. The storm was abating but there were still thunderings and
occasional flashes of lightning concerning the crass ignorance and
stupidity of the people of Orchard Glen and Methodists the world over.
"Come up to Glenoro and we'll be learning you manners," came rumbling
out of the thunder cloud. "We'll be showing you how they treat a Piper
there."
But by this time the pipes were beginning to scream their opening note,
and Lauchie was blowing his anger into the chanter. The tune rose on a
shrill spiral and high and clear it poured forth the challenging notes
of a fierce pibroch, the war song of the Clan McDonald. The player
marched back and forth across the platform keeping quick step to the
mad tune, that rose louder and faster and shriller at each step.
The audience began to clap, to stamp, to cheer, and still the war cry
of the McDonalds went screaming to the roof; and finally when the walls
were beginning to rock, and the women were becoming terrified, the
Piper whirled down the aisle and swept out of the building on the high
tide of his song. The young men in the back of the hall followed him
in noisy hilarity, but he stopped for nobody. He went marching
straight up the village street towards home, the defiant notes rising
in a wild crescendo. And oh, how he blew with lungs of leather like
fifty pipers together, when he was passing the Methodist church!
Dr. McGarry called the audience to order with some difficulty, and the
rest of the performance went on quite decorously. And when the last
notes of the pipes died away in the hills, Marmaduke and Trooper
crawled from their hiding place and sat on the hall steps till the
programme was over, holding each other up.
"Gosh," whispered Marmaduke, wiping his eyes weakly. "Who'd 'a'
thought that a McDonald from Glenoro wouldn't know a Methodist church
when he saw one?"
"It was the sight o' the Temperance hall that turned his stomach,"
lamented Trooper. "We might 'a' known he'd shy at it."
The Piper played himself away up and out of Orchard Glen, vowing
solemnly, like the Minstrel Boy, that he would tear the cords of his
instrument asunder ere they should sound again within the hearing of
that traitorous community, a vow that old Lauchie was to live to see
broken, under very stirring circumstances.
But there were other cords torn asunder in Orchard Glen by the
unfortunate contingency of that fatal evening. The Hendersons and the
Browns, who had been lifelong friends, stopped speaking to each other;
Mr. Sinclair and Mr. Wylie met on the most frigidly polite terms; the
union choir, which was the pride of Tremendous K.'s heart and the glory
of Orchard Glen, fell to pieces, and a line of demarkation was drawn
carefully between the two denominations where so recently every one had
talked about church union.
Mrs. Johnnie Dunn did not allow whatever part her nephew and his chum
had in the affair to go unnoticed. She advertised it, and hinted that
perhaps the Piper was not so much to blame after all. Indeed the past
record of Trooper and Marmaduke afforded little weight in proving their
innocence, and public suspicion fastened upon them. Neither of them
took any pains to establish their innocence; indeed, Trooper secretly
wondered why they had never thought of planning the affair, and was
rather ashamed of his lack of enterprise.
But both he and Marmaduke felt that The Woman pressed the case against
them just a little too strongly.
"We'll have to do something to make The Woman mind her own business,
Troop," Marmaduke declared, as they sat by the roaring fire in the
store one chilly afternoon. "She'll ruin our innocent and harmless
reputations if we don't."
So the two put their heads together to plan a just retribution, but
before it could be made to fall, The Woman astonished every one by an
entirely new enterprise. She packed her trunk, and leaving Marthy and
Trooper to take care of themselves, she went away to spend the Winter
on a visit to a sister in California.
But to no one was the night of the concert such a great occasion as it
was to Christina. Wallace Sutherland went back to his studies the next
week, but the vision of his handsome smiling face and his gallant
behaviour remained vividly with her. She was filled with dismay at the
contrast Gavin Grant had presented to him that night. It did not dawn
upon Christina's mind that Gavin would as soon have raised his hand to
Auntie Elspie as to defend himself against poor old Piper Lauchie.
Tilly had whispered that Gavin was scared, and the other girls, with
Joanna's able assistance, emphasised the shameful fact. So when she
saw him after the concert, standing on the edge of the bar of light
that streamed from the hall door, she slipped away as he turned towards
her and escaped with John in the darkness. But Gavin noticed her haste
and interpreted it aright.
The Aunties sent a gay message by John, when he was over at the
Craig-Ellachie threshing, to the effect that Elspie had broken off her
engagement. She had heard that Piper Lauchie had taken to going to the
Methodist church, and they had warned her that they would not abide a
Methodist body in the family. But Christina could not joke about the
Piper with Gavin, she felt he really must be humiliated, when, in fact,
Gavin felt no more at fault than if he had backed out of the way of an
enraged child and dodged his blows.
But indeed Christina was giving him and his affairs very little
thought. Her Dream Knight had taken form, she even knew his name and
his station in life. And though he still rode gaily beyond the horizon
she could not but think of him and wonder when she might see him again.