NEW TIES.
One evening, when the McPhersons were spending an hour or two at the
cottage, Donald took it into his head to joke Wullie about matrimony.
"Hoot, man, what ails ye, to talk after that fashion?" exclaimed Wullie.
"And what for no? Is it no a gude fashion? I daur ye to say it is no a
gude fashion!"
Wullie did not reply, but a smile was on his face.
"Honestly, noo," continued Donald; "Katy and I hae talked it over mair
than ance, and we baith think it is the best thing that could be dune.
Ye ken there is naething against it, for Rab was no your vera ain
brither."
Katy smiled, but Jeannie knitted busily, showing neither pleasure nor
displeasure.
Donald's suggestion seemed to have struck Wullie favorably, for after
the visitors had gone he ventured to renew the subject.
"Jeannie, what think ye aboot oor neebor's talk?"
"His talk aboot what? He says sae muckle, wha can mind it a'?" she said
with that persistent dullness of comprehension that is often assumed by
her sex.
Wullie, seeing he would have no help in the matter, came to the point at
once, "His talk aboot wedlock, to be sure."
"It is but ane o' his daft notions," she replied, but in a tone less
severe than the words.
"It isna sae daft a notion, perhaps," he said, following up his
advantage. "It is true I hae neither riches, wit, nor beauty. I hae
naught but a hamely living to offer ye, and that ye s'all hae at ony
rate if I can win it. I will always do my best to provide for Rab's
family, but it might be mair proper to hae the family a' in ane. What do
ye say till it?"
"I will say naething against the wish o' him wha is gaen awa. He said,
'If Wullie would ever wish to mak ye his wife, hear till him.'"
"Noo, then," said Wullie, "I will tak the first kiss I hae had o' a
woman sin' my mither died. Hoo soon s'all it be?"
"As it suits yoursel. Ye ken my best earthly affections lie in the grave
wi' your brither; but if ye can tak respect and esteem instead o'
affection, I willna oppose your wishes."
"Weel, I will accept what ye hae to gie me, and perhaps the affection
will come after a while."
"Ye are mair than warthy o' it, Wullie; sae I hope it will come. But
sin' I didna hae it, I wouldna deceive ye."
"Ye hae been honest aboot it at ony rate, sae it wunna fret me."
A few days later Wullie returned from town with a nice dress-pattern for
Jeannie, some tartans for the little girls, cloth to be made up for
Jamie, and a new suit for himself. After a few weeks there were gathered
in the best room of the cottage Farmer Lindsay and his wife, Donald and
Katy McPherson, the children, and the parish minister. Before him stood
honest Wullie and the widow, who was then to become Mrs. William
Murdoch. After the ceremony and the congratulations were over came a
supper such as had never before been seen in the cottage. After this was
finished Farmer Lindsay took his seat by the window, and often looked
out into the twilight. Presently he saw, as he expected, his herd-boy
leading a fine young cow.
"I suppose ye hae room in your byre for anither coo?" he asked,
addressing Wullie.
"Ay, I hae room eneuch, if that was a' that stood in the way o' twa
being there."
"Weel, then, ye will hae twa, for here comes a lad wi' the heifer we
ca' Spot. Did ye think I would forget my auld and tried servant at sic a
time as this?"
"Weel, weel, weel! This is wholly unexpectit! Mony thanks to you,
Maister Lindsay."
Donald McPherson rejoiced in the good fortune of his neighbor, but he
felt somewhat crestfallen that he had brought nothing to give, and he
expressed his regret to his host. But Wullie relieved him by saying,
with a smile,
"We canna a' gie presents, Donald, but we can a' gie gude wishes, and I
am sure ye gie me them, neebor."
The evening passed in pleasant talk, and when these neighbors separated
it was with a kindly feeling towards each other that is often wanting in
the higher circles of life.
Honest Wullie continued to prosper, though in a small way. The years
glided by, bringing nothing but pleasing changes, the most pleasing of
which was the birth of a son. Jamie had long since left his uncle's knee
to younger claimants. He was a strong, healthy lad, possessing his
father's wit and sprightliness, and also uncommon beauty. His mother's
eyes often rested on him with maternal fondness, if not with pride. He
found plenty to do in collecting fuel, helping with the garden, and
doing the work in and around the cow-shed. He attended the little
parish school a few months in the year. He was fond of books, too,
although there was nothing in his surroundings to foster a love of
study. True, Farmer Lindsay once patted him on the head, and said, "If
ye could stand a fair chance, Jamie, ye would mak a man no to be ashamed
o';" and the schoolmaster sometimes gave him the praise he merited. But
the days came and went, bringing him nearer to the time when he must be
put to steady employment to help to defray the expenses of the family,
with which time we will open the next chapter.