THE KEEPER'S LETTER
Old John Spence was an early riser. He did not share Charles Lamb's
fears of indulging in the ambition of rising with the sun. The latter
part of the day was to him a period of repose, a siesta of half-sleepy
meditation, which not unfrequently passed into a deep-toned sleep in his
arm-chair. In a lucid interval, during the evening of Jock's arrival,
he had been considering how he might best help the Sergeant out of his
difficulties. He had not for a moment accepted of Jock's policy
suggesting his lordship's interference in the great Drumsylie case.
With the instinct of an old servant, he felt that such presumption on
his part was out of the question. So he had informed Jock, bidding him
not to think of his lordship, who would not and could not do anything in
the matter. He assured him at the same time that he would try what
could be done by himself to muzzle Smellie. Having accordingly matured
his plans, he was ready at daybreak to execute them. He embraced
therefore the first opportunity of taking Hugh into a small closet,
where the little business which required writing was generally
transacted, and where a venerable escritoire stood, in whose drawers and
secret recesses were carefully deposited all papers relating to that
department of his lordship's estate over which John was chief.
The door having been carefully barred, the old keeper seated in an
arm-chair, and his son Hugh at the escritoire, John said, "Get the pen
and paper ready."
"A' richt," said Hugh, having mended his pen and tried it on his
thumb-nail, looking at it carefully as he held it up in the light.
"Weel, then, begin! Write--'Sir;' no' 'Dear Sir,' but jist 'Sir'. Of
coorse ye'll pit the direction 'To Mr. Peter Smellie'. Eh?--halt a
wee--should I say Mr. or plain Peter? Jist mak' it plain Peter--say,
'To Peter Smellie'."
"To Peter Smellie," echoed Hugh.
"John Spence, keeper--or raither John Spence, senior keeper--wishes tae
tell ye that ye're a scoondrill."
After writing these words with the exception of the last, Hugh said, "Be
canny, faither, or maybe he micht prosecute you."
"Let him try't!" replied John; "but let scoondrill stan'. It's the vera
pooder and shot o' my letter; wi'oot that, it's a' tow and colfin."
"I'm no' sure, faither, if I can spell't," said Hugh, who did not like
the more than doubtful expression, and put off the writing of it by
asking, "Hoo, faither, d'ye spell scoondrill?"
"What ither way but the auld way?"
"But I never wrote it afore, for I hae had little to dae wi' ony o' the
squad."
"Weel, I wad say--s, k, oo, n, d, r, i, l, l, or to that effec'. Keep
in the _drill_ whatever ye dae, for that's what I mean tae gie him!"
Having written this very decided introduction, Hugh went on with his
letter, which when completed ran as follows:--
"John Spence, Senior Keeper, Castle Bennock, to Peter Smellie, Draper,
Drumsylie.
"You are a skoondrill, and you kno it! But nobody else knos it but my
son and me and Serjent Mercer. I wuss you to understan' that he knos
all about yon black business o' yours, 20 year back. This comes to let
you kno that unless you leve him alone, and don't molest him, I will
send you to Botany Bay, as you deserve. Medle not with the Sergeant, or
it wull be to your cost. Attend to this hint. I wull have you weel
watched. You are in Mr. Mercer's power. Bewar!
"Your servt.,
"JOHN SPENCE."
"I houp," said John, as he had the letter read over to him, "that will
mak the whitrat leave aff sookin' the Sergeant's throat! If no', I'll
worry him like a brock, or hunt him like a fox aff the kintra side. But
no' a word o' this, mind ye, tae ony leevin' cratur, mair especial tae
yon trampin' chiel. Gie Smellie a chance, bad as he is. Sae let the
letter be sent aff this verra nicht wi' Sandy the Post. The sooner the
better. The nesty taed that he is! Him to be preaching tae a man like
Adam oot o' his clay hole!"
The letter was despatched that night by the post. It was not thought
discreet to intrust Jock with the secret, or to let Adam Mercer know in
the meantime anything about this counter-mine.
Breakfast being over, Hall proposed to return to Drumsylie. Before
doing so he wished some positive assurance of obtaining aid in favour of
the Sergeant from Spence. But all he could get out of the keeper was to
"keep his mind easy--no' to fear--he wad look efter the Sergeant".
Old Spence would not, however, permit of Jock's immediate departure, but
invited him to remain a day or two "and rest himsel'". It was
benevolently added, that "he could help Johnnie to fish at an odd hour,
and to sort the dogs and horses in ordinar' hours". The fact was, old
Spence did not wish Hall to return immediately to Drumsylie, until
events there had time to be affected by his letter to Smellie. Jock was
too glad of the opportunity afforded him of proving that he might be
trusted to do whatever work he was fitted for, and that he was not "a
lazy tramper" by choice.
As the week was drawing to an end, Jock made up his mind to return to
his old haunts, for home he had none. He had also an undefined longing
to see the Sergeant, and to know how it fared with him.
But when the day arrived for his departure, Hugh suggested that perhaps
Jock would like to see the Castle. It was not, he said, every day he
would have such a chance of seeing so grand a place, and maybe he might
even see his lordship!--at a distance. Besides, it would not take him
far out of his road; and Hugh would accompany him a part of the way
home, as he had to visit a distant part of the estate in the discharge
of his professional duties.
Jock's curiosity was excited by the thought of seeing the great house
not as a beggar or a poacher, but under the genteel protection of a
keeper and confidential servant, and when a live lord might be scanned
from afar without fear.
When Jock came to bid farewell to old Spence, he approached him bonnet
in hand, with every token of respect. He said little but "Thank
ye--thank ye, Mr. Spence, for yer guidness;" and whispering, added, "I'm
sorry if I offended ye. But maybe ye could get a job for me if I canna
fa' in wi' honest wark at Drumsylie? I'll break my back, or break my
heart, tae please you or ony dacent man that 'll help me to feed my
body--it's no mickle buik--and to cover't--and little will keep the
cauld oot, for my hide is weel tanned wi' win' and weather."
Spence looked with interest at the poor but earnest pleader at his
elbow, and nodded encouragingly to him.
"Eh, man!" said Jock, "what a pity ye dinna snuff! I wad lee ye my auld
snuff-box gin ye wad tak' it."
Spence smiled and thanked him--ay even shook hands with him!--an honour
which went to Jock's heart; and Spence added, "My compliments to my
cousin Adam, and tell him to stan' at ease and keep his pooder dry."
Mrs. Spence had prepared a good "rung" of bread and cheese, which she
stuffed into Jock's pocket to support him in his journey.
"Awfu' guid o' ye--maist awfu'!" said Jock, as he eyed the honest woman
pressing the food into its ragged receptacle.
Jock looked round, and asked for Johnnie. On being told that he was at
the stables, he went off to find him, and, having succeeded, took him
aside and said--"Johnnie, laddie, I hae been treated by yer folk like a
lord, tho' efter a' I dinna weel ken hoo a lord is treated; but,
howsomdever, wi'oot ony clavers aboot it, here's a present for you o'
the best buik o' flees in the haill kintra side. Tak' them, and
welcome." And Jock produced his "Book of Sports", which had been his
most cheerful companion for many a year, and almost forcing John to take
it, added, "I hae a obligation to ax: never tell yer folk aboot it till
I'm awa', and never tell ony stranger atween this and Drumsylie that ye
got it frae Jock Ha'." And before the astonished boy could thank him as
the generous giver of so many keys to unlock every pool of its
treasures, on every day in the year and at all seasons, Jock ran off to
join Hugh.