And so, with a good heart, they began their work. I daresay it would be
amusing to some of my young readers if I were to go into particulars,
and tell them all that was done by each from day to day; but I have no
time nor space for this.
The bee was a very successful one. As everybody knows, a bee is a
collection of the neighbours to help to do in one day work which it
would take one or two persons a long time to do. It is not usually to
do such work as ploughing or sowing that bees are had; but all the
neighbours were glad to help the Widow MacIvor with her spring work, and
so two large fields, one of oats and another of barley, were in those
two days ploughed and harrowed, and sowed and harrowed again.
Shenac was not quite at her ease about the bee, partly because she
thought it had been the doing of Angus Dhu and the elder, and partly
because she felt if they were to be kept together they must depend, not
on their neighbours, but upon themselves. But it was well they had this
help, for the young people were quite inexperienced in such work as
ploughing and sowing, and the summers are so short in Canada that a week
or two sooner or later makes a great difference in the sowing of the
seed.
There was enough left for Shenac and her brothers to keep them busy from
sunrise to sunset, during the months of May and June. There was the
planting of potatoes and corn, and the sowing of carrots and turnips;
and then there was the hoeing and keeping them all free from weeds.
There was also the making of the garden, and the keeping of it in order
when it was made. This had always been more the work of Hamish than of
any of the rest, and he made it his work still; and though he was not so
strong as he used to be, there never had been so much pains taken with
the garden before. Everybody knows what comfort for a family comes out
of a well-kept garden, even though there may be only the common
vegetables and very little fruit in it; and Hamish made the most of
theirs that summer, and so did they all.
It must not be supposed that because Shenac was a girl she had no part
in the field-work. Even now, in that part of the country, the wives and
daughters of farmers help their fathers and brothers during the busy
seasons of spring and harvest; and for many years after the opening up
of the country the females helped to clear the land, putting their hands
to all kinds of out-door work as cheerfully as need be. As for Shenac,
she would have scorned the idea that there was any work that her
brothers could do for which they had not the strength and skill.
Indeed, Shenac had her full share of the field-work, and much to do in
the house besides. The mother was not strong yet, either in mind or
body: she would never be strong again, Shenac sometimes feared, and she
must be saved as far as possible from all care and anxiety. So the
heaviest of the household work fell to Shenac. They had not a large
dairy, and never could have again; for the greater part of their pasture
and mowing land lay on the wrong side of the high cedar fence so hotly
resented by the children. But the three cows which they had were her
peculiar care. She milked them morning and evening, and, when the days
were longest, at noon too; and though her mother prepared the dishes for
the milk and skimmed the cream, Shenac always made the butter, because
churning needed strength as well as skill; and oftener than otherwise it
was done before she called her brothers in the morning.
Much may be accomplished in a short time by a quick eye and a ready
hand, and Shenac had both. The minutes after meal-time which her
brothers took for rest, or for lingering about to talk together, she
filled with the numberless items of household work which seem little in
the doing, but which being left undone bring all things into disorder.
When any number of persons are brought together in circumstances where
decision and action become necessary, the leadership will naturally fall
on the one among them who is best fitted by natural gifts or acquired
knowledge to assume responsibility. It is the same in families where
the head has been suddenly removed. Quite unconsciously to herself,
Shenac assumed the leadership in the household; and it was well for her
brothers that she had duties within-doors as well as in the fields.
There were days in these months of May and June which were not half long
enough for the accomplishment of her plans and wishes. I am afraid that
at such times the strength of Hamish and the patience of Dan must have
given out before she found it too dark to go on with their labours. But
the thought of the mother, weary with the work at home, made her shorten
the day to her brothers and lengthen it to herself.
One of Shenac's faults was a tendency to go to extremes in all things
that interested her. She had made up her mind that the summer's work
must be successful; and to insure success all other things must be made
to yield. It was easy for her to forget the weakness of Hamish, for he
was only too willing to forget it himself; and as for Dan, though there
was some truth in Angus Dhu's assertion to his mother that "he was a
wild lad, and needed a firm hand to guide him," he gave no tokens of
breaking away as yet. Shenac had so impressed him with the idea that
they must keep the farm as their own, and show the neighbours that they
could keep it in order, that to him every successful day's work seemed a
triumph over Angus Dhu as well as over circumstances. His industry was
quite of his own free will, as he believed, and he gave Shenac none of
the credit of keeping him busy, and indeed she took none of the credit
to herself. In her determination to do the most that could be done, she
might have forgotten her mother's comfort too; but this was not
permitted. For if the mother tired herself with work, or if she saw
anything forgotten or neglected in the house, she became fretful and
desponding, and against this Shenac always strove to guard.
If Shenac were ever so tired at night, it rested her to turn back to
look over the fields beginning to grow green and beautiful under their
hands. They worked in those days to some purpose, everybody
acknowledged. In no neighbourhood, far or near, were the fields better
worth looking at than those that had been so faithfully gone over by
Shenac and her brothers. Many a farmer paused, in passing, to admire
them, saying to himself that the Widow MacIvor's children were a credit
to her and to themselves; and few were so churlish as to refrain from
speaking a word of encouragement to them when an opportunity came.
Even Angus Dhu gave many a glance of wonder and pleasure over his cedar
rails, and gave them credit for having done more than well. He was very
glad. He said so to himself, and he said so to his neighbours. And I
believe he was glad, in a way. He was too good a farmer not to take
pleasure in seeing land made the most of; and I think he was glad, too,
to see the children of his dead friend and cousin capable of doing so
well for themselves.
It is just possible that deep down in his heart, unknown or
unacknowledged to himself, there lurked a hope that when Shenac should
marry, as he thought she was sure to do, and when wild Dan should have
gone away, as his brothers had done before him, those well-tilled fields
might still become his. Perhaps I am wrong, and hard upon him, as
Shenac was.
She gave him no credit for his kind thoughts, but used to say to her
brothers, when she caught a glimpse of his face over the fence,--
"There stands Angus Dhu, glowering and glooming at us. He's not praying
for summer rain on our behalf, I'll warrant.--Oh well, Angus man, we'll
do without your prayers, as we do without your help, and as you'll have
to do without our land. Make the most of what you have got, and be
content."
"Shenac," said Hamish on one of these occasions, "you're hard on Angus
Dhu."
"Am I, Hamish?" said Shenac, laughing. "Well, maybe I am; but it will
not harm him, I daresay."
"But it may harm yourself, Shenac," said Hamish gravely. "I think I
would rather lose all the work we have done this spring than have it
said that our Shenac was bearing false witness against our neighbour,
and he of our own kin, too."
"Nobody would dare to say that of me," said Shenac, reddening.
"But if it is true, what is the difference whether it is said or not?"
said Hamish. "You seem more glad of our success because you think it
vexes Angus Dhu, than because it pleases our mother and keeps us all at
home together. It does not vex him, I'm sure of that; and, whether it
does or not, it is wrong for you always to be thinking and saying it.
You are not to be grieved or angry at my saying it, Shenac."
But both grieved and angry Shenac was at her brother's reproof. She did
not know which was greater, her anger or her grief. She did not trust
herself to answer him, and in a little time Hamish spoke again:--
"It cannot harm him--at least, I think it cannot really harm him, though
it may vex him; and I'm sure it must grieve the girls to hear that you
say such things about their father. But that is not what I was thinking
about. It must harm yourself most. You are growing hard and bitter.
You are not like yourself, Shenac, when you speak of Angus Dhu."
The sting of her brother's words was in the last sentence, but it was
the first part that Shenac answered.
"You know very well, Hamish, that I never speak of Angus Dhu except to
you--not even to my mother."
"You have spoken to Dan--at least, you have spoken in his hearing. What
do you think I heard him saying the other day to Shenac yonder?"
"Shenac yonder" was the youngest daughter of Angus Dhu, so called by the
brothers to distinguish her from their sister, who was "our Shenac" to
them. Other people distinguished between the cousins as they had
between the fathers. One was Shenac Bhan; the other, Shenac Dhu.
"I don't know," said Shenac, startled. "What was it?"
"Something like what you were saying to me just now. You may think how
Shenac's black eyes looked when she heard him."
Shenac was shocked.
"She would not mind what Dan said."
"No. It was only when Dan told her that _you_ said it that she seemed
to mind," said Hamish gravely.
"Dan had no business to tell her," said Shenac hotly; then she paused.
"No," said Hamish; "I told him that."
"I'll give him a hearing," began Shenac.
"I think, Shenac, you should say nothing to Dan about it," said Hamish.
"Only take care never to say more than you think before the little ones,
or indeed before any one again. You may vex Angus Dhu, and Shenac
yonder, and the rest, but the real harm is done to us at home, and
especially to yourself, Shenac; for you no more believe that Angus Dhu
is a robber--the oppressor of the widow and the fatherless--than I do."
Shenac uttered an exclamation of impatience.
"I shall give it to Dan."
"No, Shenac, you will not. Dan must be carefully dealt with. He has a
strong will of his own, and if it comes into his mind that you or any
one, except our mother, is trying to govern him, he'll slip through our
fingers some fine day."
"You've been taking a leaf out of Angus Dhu's book. There's no fear of
Dan," said Shenac.
"There's no fear of him as long as he thinks he's pleasing himself, and
that his sister is the best and the wisest girl to be found," said
Hamish. "But if it were to come to a trial of strength between you, Dan
would be sure to win."
Shenac was silent. She knew it would not be well to risk her influence
over Dan by a struggle of any sort. But she was very angry with him.
"He might have had more sense," she said, after a moment.
"And indeed, Shenac, so might you," said Hamish gravely. "There should
be no more said about Angus Dhu, for his sake and ours. He has been
very friendly to us this summer, considering all things."
"Considering what I said to him, you mean," said Shenac sharply. "I was
sorry for that as soon as I said it. But, Hamish, if you think I'm
going down on my knees to Angus Dhu to tell him so, you're mistaken. He
may not be a thief and a robber, but he's a dour carle, though he is of
our own kin, and as different from our father as the dark is different
from the day. And I can say nothing else of him, even for your sake,
Hamish."
"It is not for my sake that I am speaking, Shenac, but for your own.
You are doing yourself a great wrong, cherishing this bitterness in your
heart."
Shenac was too much grieved and too angry to speak. She knew very well
that she was neither very good nor very wise; but it had hitherto been
her great pleasure in life to know that Hamish thought her so, and his
words were very painful to her. She was vexed with him, and with Dan,
and with all the world. Above all, she was vexed with herself.
She would not confess it, but in her heart she knew that a little of the
zest would be taken from their labours if she were sure that their
success would not be a source of vexation to Angus Dhu. And then Hamish
had said she was injuring Dan--encouraging him in what was wrong--
perhaps risking her influence for good over him.
The longer she thought about all this, the more unhappy she became.
"Bearing false witness!" she repeated. It was a great sin she had been
committing. It had been done thoughtlessly, but it was none the less a
sin for that, Shenac knew. Hamish was right. She was growing very hard
and wicked; and no wonder that he had come to think so meanly of her.
Shenac said all this to herself, with many sorrowful and some angry
tears. But the anger passed away before the sorrow. There were no
confessions made openly; but, whatever may have been her secret thoughts
of Angus Dhu, neither Dan nor Hamish nor anybody else ever heard Shenac
speak a disrespectful word of him again.
Dan never got the "hearing" with which she had threatened him. She
checked him more than once, when in the old way he began to remark on
the evident interest that their father's cousin took in their work; but
she did it gently, remembering her own fault.
The intercourse which had almost ceased between the families was
gradually renewed--at least, between the younger ones. Shenac could not
bring herself to go often to her cousins' house. She always felt, as
she said to Hamish, as though Angus Dhu "eyed her" at such times. And,
besides, she was too busy to go there or anywhere else. But her cousins
came often to see her when the day's work was over; and Shenac, the
youngest, who was her father's favourite, and who could take liberties
that none of the others could have done at her age, came at other times.
She was older than our Shenac by a year or so; but she was little and
merry, and her jet-black hair was cut close to her head like a child's,
so she seemed much younger. She could not come too often. She was
equally welcome to the grave, quiet Hamish and the boyish Dan, and more
welcome to Shenac than to either. For she never hindered work, but
helped it rather. She brought the news, too, and fought hot, merry
battles with the lads, and for the time shook even Hamish out of the
grave ways that were becoming habitual to him, and did Shenac herself
good by reminding her that she was not an old woman burdened with care,
but a young girl not sixteen, to whom fun and frolic ought to be
natural.
There were not many newspapers taken in those parts about that time; but
Angus Dhu took one, and Shenac used to come over the fence with it, and,
giving it to Hamish, would take his hoe or rake and go on with his work
while he read the news to the rest. The newspaper was English, of
course. Gaelic was the language spoken at home--the language in which
the Bible was read, and the Catechism said; but the young people all
spoke and read English. And very good English too, as far as it went;
for it was book-English, learned at school from books that are now
considered out of date. But they were very good books for all that.
They used to have long discussions about the state of the world as they
gathered it from the newspapers--not always grave or wise, but useful,
especially to Shenac, by keeping her in mind of what in her untiring
industry she was in danger of forgetting, that there was a wide world
beyond these quiet lines within which they were living, where nobler
work than the mere earning of bread was being done by worthy and willing
hands.