"Its English is better," I said, "the sentences are correctly formed,
but there isn't an idea in the whole essay. Anybody can describe a pet
rabbit."
"That's so, but composition is meant to teach a boy to write good
English."
"What's the good of writing good English if you haven't any ideas to
write about?" I cried. "Every member of Parliament can write good
English, but there aren't half-a-dozen men of ideas in the House.
Personally, I don't care a damn how a boy writes if he shows he is not
an average boy. Jim Jackson has talent: Alec Henry is a mere
unimaginative cram. You encourage Henry and you sit on Jim.... I wish he
had Archibald's power to sting you!"
"But what is his nonsense to lead to?" he said.
"We don't know. As dominies our job is to encourage Jim in his natural
bent. It is enough for us that he is different from the scholarly
Henry. We have a good idea of what Alec will come to; we know nothing
about Jim. You have tried to fit Jim into the Alec mould, and you have
failed."
"Jim knew that you were on his side," growled Macdonald.
"I suppose he did, Macdonald. But you have got all the others; surely
you don't grudge me Jim and the five girls?"
"That's all right," he said with a short laugh, "I've given up wooing
them. I allow Jim to choose his own line now ... but I'll never like the
laddie."
* * *
I have always disliked all the pomp and circumstance of weddings.
Margaret wanted a quiet wedding before a registrar but her father was
eager to make a fete of the occasion, and we allowed him to have his
way. Besides Jim and the girls were expecting a great day.
I can't say that I enjoyed my wedding. The bairns seemed to have lost
their identity when they donned their wedding garments. Jim sat on the
dickey beside the driver; there was pride in his face but his smile was
gone. The occasion was too great for him. The girls stood about the
dining-room in awkward attitudes, and I noted the fine English of their
speech.
And Jim failed at the wedding-feast. Part of his duty was to propose the
health of the bridesmaids, and when the minister called upon him for his
speech he fled from the room. Peter MacMannish proposed the toast
instead.
Margaret and I set off in a hired motor in the afternoon. We were going
to London. When we reached the station Margaret suddenly said: "If only
we could have stayed for the dance to-night!"
"Yes," I said, "the bairns will be in form to-night."
"We should really be there," continued Margaret sadly, "it's our dance
you know."
"And here we are going off to a hotel among strangers, Margaret!"
Margaret clutched my arm.
"Let's go back," she said eagerly, "we'll spend the first bit of our
honeymoon in the dear old bothy!"