July had come. There was a little pause in the field-work, for all the
seed had been sown and all the weeds pulled up, and they were waiting
for a week or two to pass, and then the haying was to begin. Even
haying did not promise to be a very busy season with them, for the
cutting and caring for the hay in their largest field would this year
fall to the lot of Angus Dhu. It was as well so, Shenac said to herself
with a sigh, for they could not manage much hay by themselves, and
paying wages would never do for them. Indeed, they would need some help
even with the little they had; for Dan had never handled a scythe except
in play, and Hamish, even if he had the skill, had not the strength.
And then the wool. They must have their cloth early this year, for last
year they had been obliged to sell the wool, and the boys' clothes were
threadbare. If they could get the wool spun early, McLean the weaver
would weave their cloth first. She must try to see what could be done.
But, oh, that weary little wheel!
Shenac's mother thought it was a wonderful little wheel; and so indeed
it was. It had been part of the marriage outfit of Shenac's grandmother
before she left her Highland home. It had been in almost constant use
all these years, and bade fair to be as good as ever for as many years
to come. There was no wearing it out or putting it out of order, for,
like most things made in those old times, it had strength if not
elegance, and Shenac's mother was as careful of it as a modern musical
lady is of her grand piano.
I cannot describe it to you, for I am not very well acquainted with such
instruments of labour. It was not at all like the wheels which are used
now-a-days in districts where the great manufactories have not yet put
wheels out of use. It was a small, low, complicated affair, at which
the spinner sat, using both foot and hand. It needed skill and patience
to use it well, and strength too. A long day's work well done on the
little wheel left one far wearier than a day's work in the field.
As for Shenac, the very thought of it made her weary. If she had lived
in the present day, she would have said it made her nervous. But,
happily for Shenac, she did not know that she had any nerves, and her
mother's wheel got the blame of her discomfort. Not that she ever
ventured to speak a disrespectful word of it. The insane idea that
perhaps her mother might be induced to sell it and buy one of the
new-fashioned kind, like that Archie Matheson's young wife had brought
with her, _did_ come into her head once, but she never spoke of it. It
would have been wrong as well as foolish to do so, for her mother would
never try to learn to use the new one, and half the comfort of her life
would be gone without her faithful friend, the little wheel.
"Oh, if I could get one for myself!" said Shenac. She had seen and used
Mary Matheson's last summer, and now, hurried as she was at home, she
took an afternoon to go with Hamish to see it again.
"Could you not make one, Hamish?" she said entreatingly; "you can do so
many things."
But Hamish shook his head.
"I might make the stock if I had tools; but the rest of it--no."
The sheep were shorn. There were sixteen fleeces piled up in the barn;
but a great deal must be done to it before it could be ready for the
boys to wear. One thing Shenac had determined on. It should be sent
and carded at the mill. The mill was twenty miles away, to be sure--
perhaps more; but the time taken for the journey would be saved ten
times over. Shenac thought she might possibly get through the spinning,
but to card it by hand, with all there was to do in the fields, would be
quite impossible.
This matter troubled Shenac all the more that she could not share her
vexation with Hamish. The idea of selling the grandmother's wheel
seemed to him little short of sacrilege; and neither he nor their cousin
Shenac could see why the mother could not dye and card and spin the
wool, as she had been accustomed to do. But Shenac knew this to be
impossible. Her mother was able for no such work now, though she might
think so herself; and Shenac knew that to try and fail would make the
mother miserable. What was to be done? Over this question she pondered
with an earnestness, and, alas! with a uselessness, that gave impatience
to her hand and sharpness to her voice at last.
"What aileth thee, Shenac Bhan, bonny Shenac, Shenac the farmer, Shenac
the fair? Wherefore rests the shadow on thy brow, and the look of
sadness in thine azure eyes?" Hamish had been reading to them Gaelic
Ossian, and Shenac Dhu had caught up the manner of the poem, and spoke
in a way that made them all laugh. Shenac Bhan laughed too; but not
because she was merry, for her cousin's nonsense always vexed her when
she was "out of sorts." But her cousin Christie was there, Mrs More,
the eldest sister of Shenac Dhu; and so Shenac Bhan laughed with the
rest. She was here on a visit from the city of M--- where she lived,
and had come over to see her aunt, as Angus Dhu's children always called
the widow. A heavy summer shower was falling, and all the boys had
taken refuge from it in the house, and there were noise and confusion
for a time.
"I want Christie to come into the barn and see our wool," said Shenac
Bhan at last, when the shower was over. "And, Shenac--dark Shenac,
doleful Shenac--you are to stay and keep the lads in order till we come
back."
Shenac Dhu made a face, but let them go.
Mrs More was a pale, quiet woman, with a grave but kind manner, which
put Shenac at her ease at once, though she had not seen her since her
marriage, which was more than five years before. She had always been
very kind to the children when she lived at home, and the memory of this
gave Shenac courage to ask her help out of at least one of her
difficulties.
"How much you have grown, Shenac!" said her cousin. "I hardly think I
would have known you if I had seen you anywhere else. Yes, I think I
would have known your face anywhere. But you are a woman now, and doing
a woman's work, they tell me."
"We have all been busy this summer," said Shenac; "but our hurry is over
now for a while."
Heedless of the little pools that were shining here and there, they went
first into the garden, and then round the other buildings, and over to
the spot, still black and charred, where the house had stood. But
little was said by either of them.
"Do you like living in the city?" said Shenac at last.
"For some things I like it--for most things, indeed; but sometimes I
long for a sight of the fields and woods, more for my wee Mary's sake
than for my own."
"This is our wool," said Shenac, as they entered the barn; "I wish it
was spun."
"Shenac," said her cousin kindly, "have you not undertaken too much?
It's all very well for you to speak of Hamish and Dan, but the weight
must fall on you. I see that plainly."
But Shenac would not let her think so.
"I only do my share," said she eagerly.
"I think you could have helped them more by coming to M--- and taking a
situation. You could learn to do anything, Shenac, if you were to try."
But Shenac would not listen.
"We must keep together," said she; "and the land must be kept for
Allister. There is no fear. We shall not grow rich, but we can live,
if we bide all together and do our best."
"Shenac," persisted her cousin, "I do not want to discourage you; but
there are so many things which a girl like you ought not to do--cannot
do, indeed, without breaking your health. I know. I was the eldest at
home. I know what there is to do in a place like yours. The doctor
tells me I shall never be quite well again, because of the long strain
of hard work and exposure when I was young like you. Think, if your
health was to fail."
Shenac turned her compassionate eyes upon her.
"But your father was hard on you, folks say, and I have the work at my
own taking."
Mrs More shook her head sadly.
"Ah, Shenac dear, circumstances may be far harder on you than ever my
father was on me. You do not know what may lie before you. No girl
like you should have such responsibility. If you will come with me or
follow me, you and Hamish, I can do much for you. You could learn to do
anything, Shenac, and Hamish is very clever. There are places where his
littleness and his lameness would not be against him, as they must be on
the land. Let my father take Dan, as he wished, and let Hughie go to
the elder's for a while. The land can lie here safe enough till
Allister comes home, if that is what you wish. Indeed, Shenac, you do
not know what you are undertaking."
"Cousin Christie," said Shenac gently, "you are very kind, but I cannot
leave my mother; and I am strong--stronger than you think. Christie,
you speak as though you thought Allister would never come home. Was our
Allister a wild lad, as your father says? Surely, he'll come home to
his mother, now that his father is dead."
She sat down on the pile of wool, and turned a very pale, frightened
face to her cousin. Mrs More stooped down and kissed her.
"My dear," she said gently, "Allister was not a wild lad in my time, but
good and truthful--one who honoured his parents. But, Shenac, the world
is wide, and there are so many things that those who have lived in this
quiet place all their lives cannot judge of. And even if Allister were
to come back, he might not be content to settle down here in the old
quiet way. The land would seem less to him than it seems to you."
"But if Allister should not come home, or if he should not stay, my
mother will need me all the more. No, Cousin Christie, you must not
discourage me. I must try it. And, indeed, it is not I alone. Hamish
has so much sense and judgment, and Dan is growing so strong. And we
will try it anyway."
"Well, Shenac, you deserve to succeed, and you will succeed if anybody
could," said her cousin. "I will not discourage you. I wish I could
help you instead."
"You can help me," said Shenac eagerly; "that's what I brought you out
to say. Our wool--you are going back soon, and if the waggon goes, will
you ask your father to let our wool go to the mill? The carding takes
so long, and my mother is not so strong as she used to be. And that is
one of the things I cannot abide. The weary little wheel is bad enough.
Will you ask your father, Christie?"
Mrs More laughed.
"That is but a small favour, Shenac. Of course my father will take it,
and he'll bring it back too; for, though it is not his usual plan at
this time of the year, he's going on all the way to M--- with butter.
There came word yesterday that there was great demand for it. The wool
will be done by the time he comes back; and he is to take his own too, I
believe."
Shenac gave a sigh of relief.
"Well, that's settled."
"Why did you not ask my father himself?" said Mrs More. "Are not you
and he good friends, Shenac?" Shenac muttered something about not
liking to give trouble and not liking to ask Angus Dhu. Mrs More
laughed again.
"I think you are hard on my father, Shenac. I think he would be a good
friend to you if you would let him. You must not mind a sharp word from
the like of him. His bark is worse than his bite."
Shenac was inexpressibly uncomfortable, remembering that all the hard
words had come from her and not from Angus Dhu.
"Well, never mind," said Mrs More; "the carrying of the wool is my
father's favour. What can I do for you, Shenac?"
"You can do one thing for me," said Shenac briskly, glad to escape from
a painful subject, and laying her hand on a shining instrument of steel
that peeped from beneath the wool on which she was sitting. "You can
cut my hair off. My mother does not like to do it, and Hamish won't. I
was going to ask Shenac yonder; but you will do it better." And she
began to loosen the heavy braids.
"What's that about Shenac yonder?" said that young person, coming in
upon them. "I should like to know what you are plotting, you two,
together--and bringing in my innocent name too!"
"Nothing very bad," said Shenac, laughing. "I want Christie to cut my
hair, it is such a trouble; it takes a whole half-hour at one time or
other of the day to keep it neat, and half-hours are precious."
"I don't like to do it, Shenac," said Mrs More.
Shenac Dhu held up her hands in astonishment.
"Cut your hair off! Was the like ever heard of?--Nonsense, Christie!
she never means it; and Hamish would never let her, besides. She'll
look no better than the rest of us without her hair," continued she,
taking the heavy braids out of Shenac's hands and pushing her back on
the pile of wool from which she had risen. "Christie, tell Shenac about
John Cameron, as you told us last night."
While Shenac listened to the account of a sad accident that had happened
to a young man from another part of the country, Shenac Dhu let down the
long, fair hair of her cousin, and, by the help of an old card that lay
near, smoothed it till it lay in waves and ripples of gold far below her
waist. Then, as Shenac Bhan still sat, growing pale and red by turns as
she listened, she with great care rolled the shining mass into thick
curls over neck and shoulders.
"Now stand up and show yourself," said she, as she finished. "Is she
not a picture? Christie, you should take her to the town with you and
put her up in your husband's shop-window. You would make her fortune
and your own too."
Shenac Bhan had this advantage over her cousin, and indeed over most
people--that the sun that made them as brown as a berry, after the first
few days' exposure left her as fair and unfreckled as ever; and she
really was a very pretty picture as she stood laughing and blushing
before her cousins. The door opened, and Hamish came in.
"My mother sent me to bid you all come in to tea;" but he stopped as his
eye fell on his sister.
"Tea!" cried Shenac Bhan. "I meant to do all that myself. Who would
have thought that we had been here so long?" And she made a movement,
as if to bind back her hair, that she might hasten away.
"Be quiet; stay till I bid you go," said Shenac Dhu, hastily letting the
curls fall again. "I wonder if all the puddles are dried up?--She ought
to see herself. Cut them off! The vain creature! Never fear, Hamish."
"Christie is to cut it," said Shenac Bhan, laughing, and holding the
wool-shears towards Mrs More. "I must do it, Hamish; it takes such a
time to keep it decently neat. My mother does not care, and why should
you?"
"Whisht, Hamish," said Shenac Dhu, "you're going to quote Saint Paul and
Saint Peter about a woman's hair being a covering and a glory. Don't
fash yourself. Why, she would deserve to be a Scots worthy more than
George Wishart, or than the woman who was drowned even, if she were to
do it!"
"You had your own cut," said Shenac Bhan, looking at her cousin with
some surprise. "Why should I not do the same?"
"You are not me. Everybody has not my strength of mind," said Shenac
Dhu, nodding gravely.
"Toch! you cut yours that it might grow long and thick like our
Shenac's," said Dan, who had been with them for some time. "Think of
your hair, and look at this." And he lifted the fair curls admiringly.
Shenac Bhan laughed.
"It's an awful bother, Dan."
"But it would be a pity to lose it. What a lot of it there is!" And
the boy walked round his sister, touching it as he went.
"She never meant to do it; but after that she could not," said Shenac
Dhu, pretending to whisper.
"Our Shenac never says what she doesn't mean," said Dan hotly.
"Whatever other people's Shenacs do," said Hamish laughing.
Shenac Dhu made as if she would charge him with the great shears.
"Give them to Christie," said Shenac Bhan. "What a work to make about
nothing!"
"She does not mean to do it yet," said Shenac Dhu; but she handed the
shears to her sister.
"I don't like to do it, Shenac," said Mrs More. "Think how long it
will take to grow again; and it is beautiful hair," she added, as she
came near and passed her fingers through it.
"Nonsense, Christie, she's not in earnest," persisted Shenac Dhu.
With a quick, impatient motion, Shenac Bhan took the shears from her
cousin's hand and severed one--two--three of the bright curls from the
mass. Shenac Dhu uttered a cry.
"There! did I not tell you?" cried Dan, forgetting everything else in
his triumph over Shenac Dhu. Hamish turned and went out without a word.
"There," said Shenac Bhan; "you must do it now, Christie."
Mrs More took the great shears and began to cut without a word; and no
one spoke again till the curls lay in a shining heap at their feet.
Then Shenac Dhu drew a long breath, and said,--
"Don't say afterwards it was my fault."
"It was just your fault, Shenac Dhu, you envious, spiteful thing,"
exclaimed the indignant Dan.
"Nonsense, Cousin Shenac.--Be quiet, Dan. She had nothing to do with
it. It has been a trouble all summer, and I'm glad to be rid of it. I
only wish I could spin it, like the wool."
"What a lot of it there is!" And Shenac Dhu stooped down and lifted a
long tress or two tenderly, as if they had life.
"What will you do with it, Shenac?"
"Burn it, since I cannot make stockings of it. Put them in here." And
she held up her apron.
"Will you give your hair to me, Shenac?" asked Mrs More.
"What can you do with it?" asked Shenac in some surprise. "Surely I'll
give it to you, so that I hear no more about it." The curls were
carefully gathered, and tied in Mrs More's handkerchief.
"Shenac Bhan," said the other Shenac solemnly, "you look like a shorn
sheep. I shall never see you again without thinking of the young woman
tied to the stake on the sands, and the sea coming up and up--"
"Shenac, be quiet. It is sinful to speak lightly of so solemn a thing,"
said her sister gravely.
"Solemn!" said Shenac. "Lightly! By no means. I was putting two
solemn things together. I don't know which is more solemn. For my
part, I would as soon feel the cold water creeping up my back, like--"
"Shenac," said our Shenac entreatingly, "don't say foolish things and
vex my mother and Hamish."
Her cousin put her hand on her mouth.
"You have heard my last word."
But the last word about the shining curls was not spoken yet.