Hardly had I crossed the threshold of the mudhouse when such a
sickness came over me that I could not have looked up, though Nanny's
voice had suddenly changed to Margaret's. Vaguely I knew that Nanny
had put the kettle on the fire--a woman's first thought when there is
illness in the house--and as I sat with my hands over my face I heard
the water dripping from my clothes to the floor.
"Why is that bell ringing?" I asked at last, ignoring all questions
and speaking through my fingers. An artist, I suppose, could paint all
expression out of a human face. The sickness was having that effect on
my voice.
"It's the Auld Licht bell," Sanders said; "and it's almost as fearsome
to listen to as last nicht's rain. I wish I kent what they're ringing
it for."
"Wish no sic things," said Nanny nervously. "There's things it's best
to put off kenning as lang as we can."
"It's that ill-cleakit witch, Effie McBean, that makes Nanny speak so
doleful," Sanders told me. "There was to be a prayer-meeting last
nicht, but Mr. Dishart never came to 't, though they rang till they
wraxed their arms; and now Effie says it'll ring on by itsel' till
he's brocht hame a corp. The hellicat says the rain's a dispensation
to drown him in for neglect o' duty. Sal, I would think little o' the
Lord if He needed to create a new sea to drown one man in. Nanny, yon
cuttie, that's no swearing; I defy you to find a single lonely oath in
what I've said."
"Never mind Effie McBean," I interposed. "What are the congregation
saying about the minister's absence?"
"We ken little except what Effie telled us," Nanny answered. "I was at
Tilliedrum yestreen, meeting Sanders as he got out o' the gaol, and
that awfu onding began when we was on the Bellies Braes. We focht our
way through it, but not a soul did we meet; and wha would gang out the
day that can bide at hame? Ay, but Effie says it's kent in Thrums that
Mr. Dishart has run off wi'--wi' an Egyptian."
"You're waur than her, Nanny," Sanders said roughly, "for you hae twa
reasons for kenning better. In the first place, has Mr. Dishart no
keeped you in siller a' the time I was awa? and for another, have I no
been at the manse?"
My head rose now.
"He gaed to the manse," Nanny explained, "to thank Mr. Dishart for
being so good to me. Ay, but Jean wouldna let him in. I'm thinking
that looks gey gray."
"Whatever was her reason," Sanders admitted, "Jean wouldna open the
door; but I keeked in at the parlor window, and saw Mrs. Dishart in't
looking very cosy-like and lauching; and do you think I would hae seen
that if ill had come ower the minister?"
"Not if Margaret knew of it," I said to myself, and wondered at
Whamond's forbearance.
"She had a skein o' worsted stretched out on her hands," Sanders
continued, "and a young leddy was winding it. I didna see her richt,
but she wasna a Thrums leddy."
"Effie McBean says she's his intended, come to call him to account,"
Nanny said; but I hardly listened, for I saw that I must hurry to
Tammas Whamond's. Nanny followed me to the gate with her gown pulled
over her head, and said excitedly:
"Oh, dominie, I warrant it's true. It'll be Babbie. Sanders doesna
suspect, because I've telled him nothing about her. Oh, what's to be
done? They were baith so good to me."