|He came down the street in the gloaming on Tuesday night with a
bird-cage in one hand and a potato-masher in the other, and I knew at
once, by these symptoms, that Erchie was flitting.
“On the long trail, the old trail, the trail that is always new,
Erchie?” said I, as he tried to push the handle of the masher as far up
his coat sleeve as possible, and so divert attention from a utensil so
ridiculously domestic and undignified.
“Oh, we’re no’ that bad!” said he. “Six times in the four-and-forty
year. We’ve been thirty years in the hoose we’re leavin’ the morn, and
I’m fair oot o’ the wye o’ flittin’. I micht as weel start the dancin’
again.”
“Thirty years! Your household gods plant a very firm foot, Erchie.”
“Man, ay! If it wisna for Jinnet and her new fandangles, I wad nae mair
think o’ flittin’ than o’ buyin’ a balloon to mysel’; but ye ken women!
They’re aye gaun to be better aff onywhaur else than whaur they are. I
ken different, but I havena time to mak’ it plain to Jinnet.”
On the following day I met Erchie taking the air in the neighbourhood of
his new domicile, and smoking a very magnificent meerschaum pipe.
“I was presented wi’ this pipe twenty years ago,” said he, “by a man
that went to California, and I lost it a week or twa efter that. It
turned up at the flittin’. That’s ane o’ the advantages o’ flittin’s; ye
find things ye havena seen for years.”
“I hope the great trek came off all right, Erchie?”
“Oh, ay! no’ that bad, considerin’ we were sae much oot o’ practice.
It’s no’ sae serious when ye’re only gaun roond the corner to the next
street. I cairried a lot o’ the mair particular wee things roond mysel’
last nicht--the birdcage and Gledstane’s picture and the room vawzes and
that sort o’ thing, but at the hinder-end Jinnet made me tak’ the maist
o’ them back again.”
“Back again, Erchie?”
“Ay. She made oot that I had cairried ower sae muckle that the flittin’
wad hae nae appearance on Duffy’s cairt, and haein’ her mind set on the
twa rakes, and a’ the fancy things lying at the close-mooth o’ the new
hoose till the plain stuff was taken in, I had just to cairry back a
guid part o’ whit I took ower last nicht. It’s a rale divert the pride
o’ women! But I’m thinkin’ she’s vex’t for’t the day, because yin o’ the
things I took back was a mirror, and it was broke in Duffy’s cairt. It’s
a gey unlucky thing to break a lookin’-gless.”
“A mere superstition, Erchie.”
“Dod! I’m no’ sae shair o’ that. I kent a lookin’-gless broke at a
flittin’ afore this, and the man took to drink a year efter’t, and has
been that wye since.”
“How came you to remove at all?”
“It wad never hae happened if I hadna gane to a sale and seen a
coal-scuttle. It’s a dangerous thing to introduce a new coal-scuttle
into the bosom o’ your faimily. This was ane o’ thae coal-scuttles wi’
a pentin’ o’ the Falls o’ Clyde and Tillitudlem Castle on the lid. I
got it for three-and-tuppence; but it cost me a guid dale mair nor I
bargained for. The wife was rale ta’en wi’t, but efter a week or twa she
made oot that it gar’d the auld room grate we had look shabby, and afore
ye could say knife she had in a new grate wi’ wally sides till’t, and
an ash-pan I couldna get spittin’ on. Then the mantelpiece wanted a bed
pawn on’t to gie the grate a dacent look, and she pit on a plush yin. Ye
wadna hinder her efter that to get plush-covered chairs instead o’
the auld hair-cloth we got when we were mairried. Her mither’s
chist-o’-drawers didna gae very weel wi’ the plush chairs, she found
oot in a while efter that, and they were swapped wi’ twa pound for a
chevalier and book-case, though the only books I hae in the hoose is
the Family Bible, Buchan’s Domestic Medicine,’ and the ‘Tales o’ the
Borders.’ It wad hae been a’ richt if things had gane nae further, but
when she went to a sale hersel’ and bought a Brussels carpet a yaird
ower larig for the room, she made oot there was naethin’ for’t but to
flit to a hoose wi’ a bigger room. And a’ that happened because a pented
coal-scuttle took ma e’e.”
“It’s an old story, Erchie; ‘c’est le premier pas que coute,’ as the
French say.”
“The French is the boys!” says Erchie, who never gives himself away.
“Weel, we’re flittin’ onywye, and a bonny trauchle it is. I’ll no’ be
able to find my razor for a week or twa.”
“It’s a costly process, and three flittin’s are worse than a fire, they
say.”
“It’s worse nor that; it’s worse nor twa Irish lodgers.
“‘It’ll cost jist next to naethin’,’ says Jinnet. ‘Duffy’ll tak’
ower the furniture in his lorry for freen’ship’s sake, an’ there’s
naethin’ ‘ll need to be done to the new hoose.’
“But if ye ever flitted yersel’, ye’ll ken the funny wyes o’ the
waxcloth that’s never cut the same wye in twa hooses; and I’ll need to
be gey thrang at my tred for the next month of twa to pay for the odds
and ends that Jinnet never thought o’.
“Duffy flitted us for naethin’, but ye couldna but gie the men a dram.
A flittin’ dram’s by-ordinar; ye daurna be scrimp wi’t, or they’ll break
your delf for spite, and ye canna be ower free wi’t either, or they’ll
break everything else oot o’ fair guid-natur. I tried to dae the thing
judeecious, but I forgot to hide the bottle, and Duffy’s heid man and
his mate found it when I wasna there, and that’s wye the lookin’
gless was broken. Thae cairters divna ken their ain strength.
“It’s a humblin’ sicht your ain flittin’ when ye see’t on the tap o’ a
coal-lorry.”
“Quite so, Erchie; chiffoniers are like a good many reputations--they
look all right so long as you don’t get seeing the back of them.”
“And cairters hae nane o’ the finer feelin’s, I think. In spite o’ a’
that Jinnet could dae, they left the pots and pans a’ efternoon on
the pavement, and hurried the plush chairs up the stair at the first
gae-aff. A thing like that’s disheartenin’ to ony weel-daein’ woman.
“‘Hoots!’ says I to her, ‘whit’s the odds? There’s naebody heedin’ you
nor your flittin’.’ “‘Are they no’?’ said Jinnet, keekin’ up at the
front o’ the new land. ‘A’ the Venetian blinds is doon, and I’ll
guarantee there’s een behind them.’
“We werena half-an-oor in the new hoose when the woman on the same
stairheid chappet at the door and tellt us it was oor week o’ washin’
oot the close. It wasna weel meant, but it did Jinnet a lot o’ guid, for
she was sitting in her braw new hoose greetin’.”
“Greetin’, Erchie? Why?”
“Ask that! Ye’ll maybe ken better nor I dae.”
“Well, you have earned your evening pipe at least, Erchie,” said I.
He knocked out its ashes on his palm with a sigh. “I hiv that! Man, it’s
a gey dauntenin’ thing a flittin’, efter a’. I’ve a flet fit, but a warm
hert; and efter thirty years o’ the auld hoose I was swear’t to leave’t.
I brocht up a family in’t, and I wish Jinnet’s carpet had been a fit or
twa shorter, or that I had never seen yon coal-scuttle wi’ the Falls o’
Clyde and Tillitudlem Castle.”