becomingly at the ground.
Mistress Fraser held up her hands.
"Of a' the deceitfu', hidin', unneighbourly craiturs," said Mistress
Fraser, "Mirren Terregles is the warst—an' me to hae drank my tea wi'
her only last week. I'll wager if I live to hae fifty bairns——"
"The Lord forbid," said her husband, unexpectedly, from the doorway.
"We hae plenty as it is——"
"And wha's faut's that?" cried his wife over her shoulder. "Oh the
deceitfu' randy——"
"In fact," said Muckle Alick, dropping another word in, "there's twa
laddies—_and_ a lassie!"
Mistress Fraser sat down quite suddenly.
"Gie me a drink frae the water can, Tam!" she said; "haste ye fast,
Alick's news has gi'en me a turn. Twa laddies and a lassie—I declare
it's a Queen's bounty! Preserve me, it's no a cradle ye want, man,
but a mill happer! A time or twa like this, and ye'll hae to plant
taties in the front yaird—ye will hae to pay soundly for your ploy at
this rate, my man. Three at a whup disna gang wi' cancy-lairies in the
cabbage plots, my lad."
"It's a maist notoriously curious thing," began Tam Fraser,
unexpectedly, "that I saw Mirren carryin' twa cans o' water this very
mornin'——"
Muckle Alick gave him a warning look, which made him catch his next
unspoken sentence as a wicket-keeper holds the ball before the field
has seen it leave the bat.
"But—but she didna look weel——" added Tam.
"I wad think no, juist," cried Mistress Fraser, who in an inner room
was busy putting a selection of small white things into a covered
reticule basket. "An puir Mirren, she'll no be ready for the like. Wha
could be prepared for a hale nation like this—I'll tak' her what I hae.
O, the deceitfu' besom—I declare it wad tak' a little to gar me never
speak to her again."
"Dinna do that!" said the hypocritical giant; "think on her
condeetion——"
"Condeetion, condeetion, quo' he—I wonder ye are no black ashamed,
Alick Douglas. And nane o' the twa o' ye ever to say a word to me,
that's your nearest neebour——"
"I gie ye my word," said Muckle Alick, "I kenned nocht aboot it till an
hour or twa afore the bairns cam' hame!"
Mistress Fraser turned fiercely upon him.
"Weel, for a' the leers in this pairish—and there are some rousers—ye
beat them clean, Alick Douglas—and you an elder amang the Cameronian
kirk! Hoo daur ye face your Maker, to say nocht o' the kirk folk as ye
stand at the plate on Sabbaths, wi' siccan lees in your mouth?
"Come awa, man," she cried from the door in her haste, "I hae twa
bagfu's o' things here. Tam, gang ower by to the Folds and up to
Cowdenslack and borrow their twa cradles. They'll no be needing them
for a month or twa—I ken that brawly—na, they are straight-forrit
women, and never spring the like o' this on puir folk to set them a' in
a flutter!"
"I think a single cradle wad do. It was a' that Mirren asked for," said
Alick demurely; "but please yoursel', Mistress Fraser, it is you that
kens."
"Yin," cried Mistress Fraser, "the man's gane gyte. Gin ye wull bring
a family into the warld by squads o' regiments, ye maun e'en tak' the
consequences. Lod, Lod, three cradles a' rockin' at the same time in
yae hoose, it will be like a smiddy—or a watchmaker's shop! It'll be
fine exerceese for ye, Alick, my man, when ye come hame at nichts—nae
mair planting o' nasty-hurcheons and pollyanthies. But every foot on
a cradle rocker, and the lassie's yin to pu' wi' a string. An' serve
ya baith richt. O, the deceitfu' madam; wait till I get ower to the
Sandyknowes!"
And Alick had to take his longest strides to keep pace with the anxious
mother of eleven—to whom he had told no lie, though, as he afterwards
said, he "had maybes keeped his thumb on some blauds o' the truth."
"It shows," said Alick, "what a differ there is atween the truth and
the hale truth—specially when there's a reason annexed in the shape of
a woman's imagination, that naturally rins on sic like things."
But as they neared Sandyknowes it is not to be doubted that Alick grew
a little anxious. His position would not be exactly a pleasant one, if,
for instance, Mirren should suddenly come out of their little byre
with a full luggie of milk. And it was about milking time.
"There doesna appear to be muckle steer aboot the place, for siccan an
awfu' thing to hae happened so lately!" said Mistress Fraser.
"Na," said the arch-deceiver Alick, making a last effort, "we are
tryin' to keep a' thing as quaite as possible."
"And faith, I dinna wonder. Gin the wives nooadays had ony spunk in
them ava', ye wad be mobbed and ridden on the stang, my man!" Then her
grievance against Mirren came again upon Mistress Fraser with renewed
force, "O, the randy, the besom," she cried; "wait till I get her!"
By this time they were nearing the door of Sandyknowes.
"I dinna think I'll come ben wi' ye the noo. I'll gang ower by the barn
instead. There's some things to look to there, I misdoubt," said Alick.
Just then they heard Mirren's voice raised in a merry laugh. It was
really at the tale of Boy Hugh and Miss Briggs, which Vara was telling
her.
But the sound brought a scared look to the face of Mistress Fraser.
"She's lauchin', I declare!" she cried; "that's an awesome bad sign.
Guid kens hoo mony there may be by this time——"
And she fairly lifted her voluminous petticoats, and, with her bundles
under her arm, ran helter-skelter for the door of Sandyknowes, more
like a halfling lassie than a douce mother of eleven bairns.
Muckle Alick saw her fairly in at the kitchen door.
"I think I'll gang ower by to the barn," he said.
But he had not got more than half-way there when both leaves of
the kitchen door sprang open, and out flew Mistress Fraser with the
large wooden pot-stick or spurtle in her hand. Alick had admired her
performance as she ran towards the house. But it was nothing to the
speed with which she now bore down upon him.
"It was like the boat train coming doon by the Stroan, ten minutes
ahint time, an' a director on board!" he said afterwards.
At the time Muckle Alick had too many things to think about, to say
anything whatever. He ran towards the barn as fast as he could for
the choking laughter which convulsed him. And behind him sped the
avenger with the uplifted porridge spurtle, crying, "O ye muckle leein'
deevil—ye blackguaird—ye cunnin' hound, let me catch ye——"
And by the cheek of the barn door catch him Mistress Fraser did. And
then, immediately after, it was Muckle Alick who received the reward of
iniquity. But Mirren stood in the doorway with little Gavin in her arms
and Vara and Boy Hugh at either side, and laughed till the tears ran
down her cheeks in twin parallel rills.
"Gie him his paiks, and soundly, Mistress Fraser; pink him weel. Hit
him on the knuckles or on the elbows. Ye micht as weel hit Ben Gairn as
try to hurt him by hitting him on the head!"
Alick was speechless with laughter, but Mistress Fraser exclaimed with
each resounding stroke, "Twa laddies and a lassie! O ye vermin!—And me
has sent to the Folds and the Cowdenslacks for twa cradles to mak' up
the three. Ye hae made a bonny fule o' me. I'll never hear the last o'
it till my dying day in this countryside. But, at ony rate, I take my
piper's pay in ha'pence out o' your skin, my man Alick!"
ADVENTURE XLII.
MUCKLE ALICK CONSIDERS.
"Noo that the collyshangie's dune," quoth Mirren Douglas, "ye micht gie
us a word o' advice what we should do wi' the bairns. But come oot by.
They are a' to their beds doon the hoose. And we can be takin' a look
at the blossoms as we gang."
"We are to plant cabbage here next year, Mistress Fraser says!" cried
Muckle Alick.
"Havers!" said his wife. But Mistress Fraser gave Alick a look which
said as plain as print, "Have you not had enough?"
"Heard ye what the name o' the puir wandering things might be?" asked
Mistress Fraser.
"Aye," said Mirren, briskly, "I hae heard a' aboot it. Their name is
Kavannah. Their faither gaed awa' to Liverpool a whilie since to seek
wark. And the bairns has left their mither in Edinburgh to seek their
faither. And I judge their mither is a gye ill yin."
"Did she tell ye that?" asked Muckle Alick, quickly.
"Na, but I jalloused it!"[5] said his wife.
"And hoo in the world could ye jallouse sic a thing as that?" said he.
"Just the way ye jallouse that the express is comin' when ye hear the
whistle, and the signal draps to 'clear,' ye muckle nowt!" said his
wife, taking what is known as a personal example.
"The lassie didna tell me yae single word, but the boy showed me an
_arr_-mark on his temple. 'The awfu' woman did that!' says he.
"'And wha's the awfu' woman, my bonny man?' says I."
"The lassie tried to turn him, but he oot wi' it. 'It's just my
mither!' says he. And if ye didna caa that a gye near signal, I ken na
what is. It's as plain as findin' bits o' a dog collar in the sausage
or a burn troot in the milk!"
But her husband did not laugh, as he usually did at her sayings. His
own humour was not of that kind, but slow, ponderous, and deliberate.
"What are ye standin' there gapin' at?" demanded his wife.
Alick held up his hand. His wife knew that this was a signal that he
wished to be left to think undisturbed a little longer. So she hurried
Mistress Fraser along to look at what she called her "nasty-hurcheons."
Sandy's mental machinery, like his bodily, was slow to set in motion,
but it worked with great momentum when once it was set a-going.
Muckle Alick was putting two and two together.
"I ken a' aboot it," he said at length, when the process was complete.
"We will need to be awesome careful. Thae bairns' faither never got
to Liverpool; consequently it's little use them gaun there to seek
him. He's either in his grave or the Edinburgh Infirmary. D'ye mind
yon tramp man that gat the hurt in his head last spring, by hiding and
sleepin' in the cattle waggons when they were shuntin'? His name was
James Kavannah. I'se warrant he was the bairns' faither!"
Mirren Douglas gave Muckle Alick a bit clap on the shoulder.
"Whiles ye are nane so stupid, man," she said, "I believe ye are richt."
"And he was on his road to Liverpool, too," added Alick, "for when he
was oot o' his mind he cried on aboot that a' the time. And aye the
owerword o' his sang was, 'She'll no get me in Liverpool!'"
His wife looked at Alick. And Muckle Alick looked at Mirren.
"We'll keep them awhile, onyway, till they can get a better hame. The
lassie will soon be braw and handy," said Mirren.
"I'm thinkin'," said Alick, "that the flower-beds will hae to come up
after a', and we'll plant taties if the porridge pot shows signs o'
wearin' empty."
It was thus that our three wanderers found a place of lodgment in the
wilderness in the kindly house of Sandyknowes.
"There's my sister Margaret up at Loch Spellanderie," said Mistress
Fraser; "she was tellin' me on Monday that she was wantin' a lass.
She's no very easy to leeve wi', I ken. But she will gie a guid wage,
and the lass would get an insicht into country wark there. It micht be
worth while thinkin' aboot."
"It is kind o' ye to think o't," said Mirren, doubtfully.
"O," replied Mistress Fraser, "I'm nane so sure o' that. As I tell ye,
oor Meg is nane o' the easiest to serve. But, as the guid Buik says,
it's a good and siccar lesson for the young to bear the yoke in their
youth."
"An' I'm sure thae puir bairns hae had their share o't," said Muckle
Alick.
"I suppose," said Mistress Fraser, as she prepared to take her leave,
"that ye canna keep your thumb on the joke aboot the twa laddies and
a lassie. Na, it's no to be expected o' you, Mirren. It's ower guid
a tale to tell, specially on me, that aye prided mysel' on letting
naebody draw my leg. But ye did me to richts this time, ye great
stirk—to bring me fleein' ower here wi' my coaties kilted as if I had
the back-door trot, a' to see three newly-come-hame bairns, and the
auldest o' them near woman muckle. And the loon that gaed me the cheat
an elder o' the kirk! Sorrow till ye, Alick, but I could find it in my
heart to clour your lugs even yet."
"Ye hae my richt guidwull," said Mirren, encouragingly.
But Muckle Alick only laughed. Then Tam Fraser came in seeking his wife.
"I hae been hearin' a' aboot your daft ploy, rinnin' in front o' the
engine and gettin' dunted oot o' the road," said he. "Some folk was
threepin' that it was awesome brave o' ye, but I think it was juist a
daft, rackless triflin' wi' Providence. That's my thocht on't."
"What was that? I hae heard tell o' it for the first time," said
Mirren. "But that's nae new thing in this hoose. Alick's married wife
is aye the last to hear o' his daft-like doin's."
"O, nocht very special this time," said Tam Fraser. "He only threw a
hundred and six Irish drovers oot o' a third story window ower the
engine o' the Port express, but there's nae mair than ten o' them dead.
And then he louped in front on an engine gaun at full speed and to draw
some bairns frae below the wheels," said Tam Fraser, giving the local
version, corrected to date.
"Is this true?" said his wife severely, fixing her eyes upon Alick with
a curious expression in them.
"There's juist aboot as muckle truth in it as there is in maist
Netherby stories for common, after they hae gotten ten minutes' start,"
said Muckle Alick.
"What is your version o't?" said his wife, never taking her eyes off
her husband.
"O, it was naething to tell aboot," said Muckle Alick. "There was some
drovers in a carriage where they had nae business, and they wadna come
oot, till I gaed in to them—and then they cam' oot! And the wee laddie
an' the bairn were comin' alang the line afore the engine. And Geordie
couldna stop. So I gied them a bit yirk oot and gat a dunch in the back
wi' the buffer."
Mirren took her husband by the rough velveteen coat-sleeve.
"My man!" she said, rubbing her cheek against it. "But what for did ye
no tell me?"
"I was gaun to tell ye the morn's mornin'," said Alick. "There was
nae harm dune, ye see, but yin o' my gallus buttons riven off an'
the buffer of Geordie's engine smashed. I was gaun to tell ye in the
mornin' aboot the button needing sewin' on."
"Did ye ever see siccan auld fules," said Tam Fraser, as he and his
wife went home, "rubbin' her cheek again his airm, that's as thick as a
pump theekit frae the frost wi' strae rapes?"
"Haud your tongue, Tam," said his wife, whose temper had suffered; "if
I had a man like that I wad rub my cheek against his trouser leg, gin
it pleasured him, the day by the length."
ADVENTURE XLIII.
TOWN KNIGHT AND COUNTRY KNIGHT.
Mr. Cleg Kelly awoke early on the day upon which he was to make the
bold adventure of getting to Netherby Junction without enriching the
railway company by the amount of his fare. But his conscience was
clean; he was going to work his passage. It is true that neither the
general manager nor yet the traffic inspector had been consulted in
the matter. But for the sake of Cleg's friend (to be exact, Cleaver's
boy's sweetheart's fellow-servant, cook at Bailie Holden's), Duncan
Urquhart was willing (and he believed able) to engineer Cleg's passage
to Netherby without fee or reward.
Duncan was friendly with the guard of his goods train, which is a thing
not too common with those who have to run goods trains together, week
in and week out. The shunting at night in particular is wearing to the
temper, especially in the winter time, when it is mostly dark in an
hour or two whenever your train happens to start.
"Can you stand there and turn a brake?" said Duncan to Cleg, setting
him in a small compartment by himself; "screw her up whenever we are
running downhill. Ye will ken when by the gurring and shaking."
Mr. Duncan Urquhart was a very different man during the day, to the
gay and gallant evening caller who had won the easy-melted heart of
the cook at Holden's—which a disappointed suitor once said bitterly
was made of dripping. He was very grimy; he spoke but seldom, and then
mostly in the highly imaginative and metaphorical language popular on
the Greenock and South-Eastern. Duncan Urquhart, as has already been
mentioned, was quite a first-class swearer, and had an originality
not common among engineers, which he owed to his habit of translating
literally from the Gaelic. Also, though he swore incessantly, he never
defiled his mouth with profanity, but confined himself assiduously to
personal abuse, which, if less sonorous, is infinitely more irritating
to the swearee.
So hour after hour Cleg stood in the train and was hurled and shaken
southwards towards Netherby. He helped at the shunting, coupling,
and uncoupling with the best. For, from his ancient St. Leonards
experience, he could run the coal-waggons to their lies as well as a
professional. And though his occupations had been varied and desultory,
Cleg was a born worker. He always saw merely the bit of work before
him, and he set his teeth into it (as he said picturesquely) till he
had clawed his way through.
Thus it was that Cleg found himself at Netherby Junction one Saturday
night at six o'clock. It was the first time he had ever been further
than the confines of the Queen's Park. And his vision of the country
came to him as it were in one day. He saw teams driving afield. He saw
the mowers in the swathes of hay. He watched with keen delight the
grass fall cleanly before the scythe, and the point of the blade stand
out at each stroke six inches from under the fallen sweep of dewy grass.
"Netherby Junction! Guidnicht!" said Duncan Urquhart, briefly. He had
an appointment to keep with the provost's cook, who was also partial to
well-bearded men with blue pilot-cloth jackets. Duncan would not have
been in such a hurry, but for the fact that it took him half an hour to
clean himself. He knew that half an hour when you go a-courting, and
when the other fellow may get there first, is of prime importance.
Now, as Cleg Kelly stepped out upon the cattle-landing bank, he caught
a glimpse of the biggest man he had ever seen, walking slowly along
the white dusty road which led out of the passenger station. He was
swinging his arms wide of his sides, as very big and broad men always
do.
Cleg sped after him at top speed and took a tour round him before he
spoke. The big man paid no attention, walking with his eyes fixed on
the ground.
"Are ye the man that pitched oot the drovers?" said Cleg at last,
coming to anchor in front of the giant.
Muckle Alick stopped in the road, as much surprised as though the town
clock had spoken to him. For Cleg put a smartness and fire in his
question to which the boys about Netherby were strangers.
"Where come ye frae?" he said to Cleg.
"I come from Edinburgh to see Vara Kavannah," said Cleg. "Is she biding
wi' you?"
"She was, till yestreen," said Alick.
"And where is she noo?" said Cleg, buckling up his trousers.
"She is gane to serve at Loch Spellanderie by the Water o' Ae!" said
Alick.
"And how far micht that be?" asked Cleg, finishing his preparations.
"Three mile and a bittock up that road!" said Muckle Alick, pointing
with his finger to a well-made dusty road which went in the direction
of the hills.
"Guidnicht!" cried Cleg, shortly. And was off at racing pace.
Muckle Alick watched him out of sight.
"That cowes a'!" he said, "to think that I could yince rin like that
to see a lass. But the deil's in the loon. He's surely braw an early
begun!"
Then Muckle Alick went round and told his wife.
"It will be the laddie frae Enbra that got them the wark in the mill,
and gied up his wood hut to the bairns to leeve in. What for did ye no
bring him to see Hugh Boy and the bairn?"
"I dinna ken that he gied me the chance," said Alick. "He was aff like
a shot to Loch Spellanderie. I wad gie a shilling to hear what Mistress
McWalter will say to him when he gets there. I houp that it'll no make
her unkind to the lassie! If it does, I'll speak to her man. And at
the warst she can aye come back to us. At a pinch we could be doing
without her wage!"
"Aweel," said his wife, "the loon will be near there by this time."
And the loon was.
Cleg was just turning up over the hill road towards Loch Spellanderie,
when he heard that most heartsome sound to the ear of a country boy—the
clatter of the pasture bars when the kye are coming home. It is a sound
thrilling with reminiscences of dewy eves, or heartsome lowsing times,
of forenichts with the lasses, and of all that to a country lad makes
life worth living.
But to Cleg the rattle of the bars meant none of these things. Two
people were standing by the gate—a boy and a girl. Cleg thought he
would ask them if this was the right road to Loch Spellanderie.
But as he came nearer he saw that the girl was Vara herself. She was in
close and, apparently, very friendly talk with a stranger—a tall lad
with a face like one of the white statues in the museum, at which Cleg
had often peeped wonderingly on free days when it was cold or raining
outside.
"Vara!" cried Cleg, leaping forward towards his friend.
"Cleg! What are you doing here?" said Vara Kavannah, holding out her
hand.
But there was something in her manner that froze Cleg. He had come with
a glowing heart. He had overcome difficulties. And now she did not seem
much more glad to see him than she had been to talk with this young
interloper at the gate of the field.
"This is Kit Kennedy," said Vara, with a feeling that she must by her
tactfulness carry off an awkward situation.
"O it is, is it?" said Cleg, ungraciously.
Vara went on hastily to tell Cleg about the children—how well and how
happy they were, how Gavin was twice the weight he had been, how Hugh
Boy ran down the road each night to meet Muckle Alick, and how she was
now able to keep herself, besides helping a little to support Hugh and
Gavin also.
Cleg stood sulkily scraping the earth with the toe of his boot. Kit
Kennedy left them together, and was going off with the cows towards the
byre. He had seen a tall, gaunt woman, who was not to be trifled with,
walking through the courtyard, and he knew it was time to take the kye
in.
Vara stopped talking to Cleg somewhat quickly. For she also had seen
Mistress McWalter. She walked away towards the farm. Cleg and Kit were
left alone.
Quick as lightning Cleg thrust his arm before Kit Kennedy's face.
"Spit ower that!" he said.
Kit hesitated and turned away.
"I dinna want to fecht ye!" he said, for he knew what was meant.
"Ye are feared!" said Cleg, tauntingly.
Kit Kennedy executed the feat in hydraulics required of him.
"After kye time," said he, "at the back o' the barn."
Cleg nodded dourly.
"I'll learn ye to let my lass alane!" said the town boy.
"I dinna gie a button for your lass, or ony ither lass. Forbye there
was nae ticket on her that I could see!" answered he of the country.
"Aweel," said Cleg; "then I'll warm ye for sayin' that ye wadna gie a
button for her. I'm gaun to lick ye at ony rate."
"To fecht me, ye mean?" said Kit Kennedy, quietly.
Thus was gage of battle offered and accepted betwixt Cleg Kelly and Kit
Kennedy.
ADVENTURE XLIV.
CLEG RELAPSES INTO PAGANISM.
The lists of Ashby were closed. The heralds and pursuivants did their
devoirs, and the trumpets rang out a haughty peal. Or at least to that
effect, as followeth:
"Come on!" said Cleg Kelly.
"Come on yoursel'!" said Kit Kennedy.
"Ye're feared," cried the Knight of the City, making a hideous face.
"Wha's feared?" replied the Knight of the Country, his fists twirling
like Catherine wheels. The boys slowly revolved round one another. It
was like the solar system, only on a somewhat smaller scale. For first
of all their fists revolved separately round each other, then each
combatant revolved on his own axis, and lastly, very slowly and in a
dignified manner, they revolved round one another.
All this happened in the cool of the evening, at the back of the
barn at the farmhouse of Loch Spellanderie. It was after the kye had
all been milked and Vara Kavannah was in the house clearing away the
porridge dishes, while the mistress put the fretful children to bed
with an accompanying chorus of scoldings, slappings, and wailings of
the smitten.
As the lads stood stripped for fight Cleg was a little taller than Kit
Kennedy, and he had all the experience which comes of many previous
combats. But then he was not, like Kit Kennedy, thrice armed, in the
consciousness of the justice of his quarrel.