Betty Grier Part 10

uppis.h.!.+ Oh, I tell ye she juist talked away to Mrs Jardine an' me as if we were o' her ain kind. An' when she rose up to gang away, an' was staunin' her full heicht lookin' doon on us, do you know, Maister Weelum, she seemed to me to be kind o' glorified, an' the kitchen an' a'

its plenis.h.i.+n's faded frae my sicht, an' a' I was conscious o' was the kindly glent o' twae big dark een an' the feelin' that I was in the presence o' some yin by-ordinar'--imphm! An' efter she had gane I couldna carry on a wiselike conversation wi' Mrs Jardine for listenin'

to the whispered words in my ear, "That's the yin! That's the wife for Maister Weelum."'

Since the forenights began to lengthen the doctor has got into the way of dropping in and smoking a quiet, meditative pipe with me over the chess-board. When he called to-night I drew out the little table with the squared top, and we settled down to our game. But my mind was not concerned with bishops, p.a.w.ns, and knights, and my thoughts kept careering between Hastie's gate and Mrs Jardine's kitchen. I made an effort to centre my interest, and to look the part of the keen, zealous player; but, unfortunately, I cannot dissemble. I lost two p.a.w.ns very stupidly, and the doctor looked keenly at me, but said nothing. I blundered on, and at last I made a move which caused the doctor to smile. He got up, relit his pipe, and sank into an easy-chair. 'Ah, William,' he said, 'Love is a tyrant! Heart claimed, thoughts claimed, all dancing attendance on the enslaver.'

I blushed, and made a show of riping my pipe into the coal-scuttle to hide my confusion. Then I told him of the meeting on the Carronbrig road, and of Betty's experience in Mrs Jardine's kitchen.

'The plot thickens, William,' he said as he rose to go; 'and if I were you I would tell her of your dream next time you meet her. It will interest her in you; and, you know, once interest is aroused--well, love will follow. Good-night.'

My picture has arrived, and I have got it hung in a favourable light, in a place of honour above the mantelpiece. I became quite excited when it was delivered, and, like a child with a new toy, was impatient to see it, and to gloat over it. But the lid of the wooden case was tightly screwed down; and, as a hammer and a saw were the only joinery tools which Betty possessed, I had to call in Deacon Webster's aid, and Betty, poor body, got no peace till he arrived with his screwdriver. When at length the picture was taken out of its packing I noticed there was no signature in the corner, and this at the time was a keen disappointment to me; but it has ceased to trouble me now, because I have the feeling that it will shortly bear the artist's name, and till that time comes, when I am not admiring her handiwork, I shall just entertain myself filling the corner s.p.a.ce with names which appeal to my mind as fitting and appropriate.

When I asked Nathan's opinion of my purchase, he looked several times very deliberately from me to the picture; then, after a pause, informed me he had 'never till noo seen purple gress.' I explained to him that this was the purple sunset glow; but he shook his head sceptically, spat in my fire, and walked slowly ben into the kitchen. Betty, who spent her early girlhood in the Keir, is delighted that a picture in which her native parish hills are depicted should be hanging on her walls, and she was very anxious to know who the painter was, and how it came into my possession. I just said I was very much interested in the artist, and that the picture had been sent from Edinburgh. She pointed out to me, what I hadn't noticed before, that the bright richness of the gold frame made the others shabby and tarnished-looking, and she warmly advocated the application of a liquid gold paint which John Boyes retails at sixpence a bottle, and which, she a.s.sures me, 'is liker pure gold than a sovereign.' Betty dearly loves to dabble in paint. It was Nathan who acquainted me with this predilection, and he instanced a case of her blue-enamelling the long hazel crook, the representative staff of the Ancient Order of Shepherds, which on gala-days he carries in the procession; and another, when she varnished, with a strange concoction, a workbox which she has never been able to open since. Knowing this, I purposely belittled Boyes's liquid, and a.s.sured her that in a week or two our eyes would become so accustomed to the conditions that we shouldn't distinguish any difference between the frames. It grieves me very much to thwart Betty; though, truth to tell, I seldom have occasion to do so, as our opinions on the big things of life, the essentials, are rarely in conflict, and the smaller we think not worth wrangling over; so I talked her into a gracious, amenable humour, and ultimately took leave of the subject in what I considered mutual agreement.

This morning, however, when she brought up my ante-breakfast cup of tea, she reverted to the subject without any preliminaries. 'Man, Maister Weelum,' she began, 'I've juist been takin' anither look roon' the dinin'-room. Noo, since we've got it done up it's the first thing I do in the mornin' an' the last at nicht; an', do ye know, I feel quite prood an' important when I'm puttin' a nice white cover on the big table, an' the silver candelabra in the centre o't. But, oh man, since yesterday I'm positively he'rt-sorry for thae auld frames. In a mainner it's my pleesure spoiled; to me it's a case o' deid flies in the ointment, ye understaun? Imphm! an' I'm gettin' fair angry at the new yin hangin' oot so prominently an' skinklin' as if to chaw the ithers.

Dod, I imagine it's laughin' an' jeerin' at them. Noo, Maister Weelum, twae sixpenny bottles o' John Boyes's gold spread oot thin would amaist do the whole lot, an'--an' I'll put it on mysel'. I'm rale knacky wi' a brush. It'll no' come to much--imphm! the cost'll be very little. What think ye?'

'I don't know, Betty, I'm sure. I'm sorry to know the old frames annoy your eye. Personally I like the old ones better than the new one; but I'll tell you what, Betty,' I said gleefully, as a happy thought struck me; 'we'll get the new frame coated over with some sort of stuff to dull it down a bit. They'll be all alike then. How would that do?'

'It'll no' do at a', Maister Weelum,' she said emphatically. 'That picter maunna be touched. No! no! It has some history, or I'm cheated.

Time will prove'----

A sudden loud knocking echoed through the house and cut short her sentence. 'Mercy me, what a bang!' she said. 'That's Milligan the postman, an' as sure as my name's Betty Grier he'll bash through that door some day;' and, to my relief--for she was stumbling into 'kittle'

ground--she hurried downstairs.

Since I came here my correspondence has become almost a negligible quant.i.ty. I rarely write to any one, and the few letters I receive are of a more or less private business character. I had two this morning--one from the treasurer of my club reminding me my subscription is due at the end of this month, and the other from my partner, Murray Monteith, who, after alluding to minor matters, writes as follows:

'Now for the real reason of my troubling you at this time. The Hon. Mrs Stuart wrote to me yesterday from Nithbank House, near Thornhill, saying she was desirous of consulting me on a very important subject; but owing to indisposition she couldn't travel to Edinburgh, and she would be much obliged if I could make it convenient to call on her at that address any day next week. I wrote to her by return saying I would travel south on Wednesday first, and would be with her during the early afternoon of that day. As you know, I am a stranger to your native county; but I presume Nithbank House is within driving distance of Thornhill, and as I am due at the station of that name at 11.30 A.M., I shall thus have ample time to call on you prior to my visit, and talk over matters with you.

'The important subject she refers to is, without doubt, in connection with the affairs of her brother-in-law, the late General Stuart, which, I regret to say, are still in a most unsatisfactory state, owing to our inability to unearth a will or to procure any information regarding his marriage. We have made exhaustive inquiry in every conceivable direction, but without result; and his daughter, Miss Stuart, must now be acquainted with the facts as they at present stand. She called here on the 17th ult., and asked to see you. Ormskirk informed her that you were at present invalided in the country, and showed her into my room.

We talked over matters in a general way, and I think I managed to satisfy her on the main points, without giving her any reason to suspect we were faced with such serious difficulties. But, as I have said, she must be told now, and I approach this part of the business with misgivings, as it is a very delicate matter indeed; and, from the little I have seen of her, I argue she will take it very keenly to heart. For us to inform her, in our cold, unfeeling legal phraseology, that she is, in the eyes of the law, illegitimate would be nothing short of brutal, and I trust we may prevail on her aunt to discharge this unenviable obligation. I a.s.sure you I have no desire to trouble you unnecessarily at this time with business concerns; but, as you are in the immediate locality, and are not only acquainted with the parties, but conversant with all the details of this case, I hope you will see your way to accompany me to Nithbank. Miss Stuart informed me that she had transacted business by correspondence only, and that she had not yet met you. Would this not be a good opportunity for us all to meet and decide what ought to be done?'

Needless to say, I shall be delighted to receive Murray Monteith here.

We must arrange to have him remain overnight with us, and I shall take peculiar pleasure in introducing him to Betty and Nathan and Dr Grierson, types, I feel sure, which he has never met before, but which I am equally sure he will appreciate. I shall certainly accompany him to Nithbank House; and I must be prepared to have the vials of the Hon. Mrs Stuart's wrath poured out upon me when she learns that for almost six months I have resided within two miles of her, and have not considered it my duty and privilege to call on her. I am very, very sorry to learn from Monteith that things have turned out so unfortunately; but somehow I have dreaded such an outcome all along. And my heart goes out to that poor girl who is likely to lose her patrimony under the inexorable law of succession. But, wait now, let me think. Yes, these four thousand Banku oil shares which her father transferred to her, on her coming of age, are hers, and cannot be contested; so that, after all, if our worst fears regarding the property are realised, she will not be penniless. I wonder if she is a level-headed business girl, and if she knows to what extent she will benefit from this. Banku oils are worth looking after.

This will be one cheering subject, at least, which we may broach to her.

But, after all, the stigma of illegitimacy remains, and money cannot make up for that. Poor girl!

CHAPTER XII.

Pondering these thoughts, I slowly dressed and went downstairs to breakfast; but so wrapped up was I in reflection, and engrossed in legal procedure and probable eventualities, that when Betty appeared with my bacon and egg I could scarcely reconcile myself to my surroundings or at once realise my whereabouts. Fortunately she didn't notice my preoccupied air, otherwise my firm's long, blue, tax-looking letter would again have been blamed and execrated; nor did she make any attempt to pick up the thread-ends of our conversation regarding the regilding of the old frames. I wondered at this, as the conditions were propitious; and Betty, as a rule, follows up the trail of a crack as surely and consistently as a weasel follows a hare.

'Joe's in the back-kitchen brus.h.i.+n' your boots,' she said, as she handed me the morning papers; and I sighed with relief in the knowledge that Boyes's liquid was likely, for the time being at least, to remain on his shop shelf. 'Puir sowl, he's quite pleased when I ask him to do ocht for you,' she continued. 'Yesterday, withoot bein' bid, he got oot yin o'

your suits o' claes an' pressed it wi' my big smoothin' ern on the kitchen table, an' he's made sic a job o't as wud be a credit to ony whip-the-cat. He has learned mair than drillin' in the airmy, I tell ye.'

'I believe that, Betty,' I said. 'The service is often a capital schoolmaster. But it was very good of him to look to my clothes. I'll not forget him for that.'

'Oh, mercy me, Maister Weelum, dinna you gi'e him ocht! He wad be black affronted an' terribly displeased if ye offered him money. No, no, it's neither wisdom nor charity to gi'e to Joe, for he's made mair siller lately than he kens hoo to tak' care o'. I can tell ye he cam' hame this time wi' a weel-filled pouch, an' for the first week o' six workin' days he did mak' it spin!'

'Spin, Betty? How in the world did he contrive to make money spin in Thornhill?' I asked.

'Haith, if ye had only seen him ye wadna need to ask. Ahem, spin! Ay, Joe can not only mak' the money spin, but he spins himsel', an' he mak's every yin spin that'll sit wi' him. But mebbe I'm gaun ower quick. Did ye no' ken that Joe tak's a dram?'

'No, Betty, I did not; and, as he's a brother of Nathan's, I'm surprised to know it.'

'Oh, weel, but it's juist possible that I'm wrangin' Joe noo. He's what I wad ca' a regular drammer--tak's his gless o' beer every day--ye ken; but aince a year, an' for a while efter he comes back, he gangs fairly ower the soore baith wi' drinkin' himsel' an' treatin' ithers. Ye ken he then has siller galore among his fingers, an' wi' Joe, as wi' the rest o' folk, "the fu' cup's no' easy carried." Last year he had a gey time o't; spent a lot, an' grudged it terribly when it was a' gane. Nathan canna be bothered wi' 'im in his thochtlessness. A' he says is "Benjy's a fule." He ca's him Benjy because he's the youngest o' the family. Ay, that's a' he says. But somewey I'm sorry for Joe, an' I'm aye ceevil an'

nice to him. An', what think ye, Maister Weelum? He has signed the pledge to please me, 'at has he, an' he hasna touched a drap for nearly three weeks. It's wonderfu' what a bit word will do, if it's spoken in season.'

'Yes, Betty, that is so,' I said meditatively; 'that is so. It is very good of you to interest yourself in Joe. I'm sure he'll bless your name every day.'

'Imphm! I've nae doot he does; in fact, I'm sure he does;' and a queer smile broke over Betty's face. 'Ay, he blesses my name, sure enough; he's a Hebron, ye ken. The Hebrons never say much, but they look a tremendous lot, an' Joe's been lookin' at me lately as if he was blessin' me. The fact is, he's sairly off his usual. He has a queer cowed look I never saw before. Oh, the man's no' weel, an' I'm sure he blames me for it. This mornin', when he cam' doon, he was lookin' fair meeserable, an' I asked him, in a kindly, sympathetic wey, how he was feelin', an' said he, "Middlin', Betty; very middlin'. It's a very stiff job this I've tackled. I've been teetotal for twenty days, an' I've saved as much as'll buy me an oak coffin; an', Betty, if I'm teetotal for other twenty days, by the Lord Harry I'll need it!" An', d'ye ken, Maister Weelum, he was sae fa'en-away-lookin' that, though I kenned it was plantin' wi' ae haun an' pu'in up wi' the ither, I gaed away an'

poured him oot a wee drap, juist a jimp gless, an' then I gi'ed him your buits to brush, an' he started to whussle like a mavis.'

Betty's face was quite serious when she was telling me this, and when I looked into her kindly, concerned eyes, and thought of Joe's patient misery, I began to laugh, and I laughed till the breakfast crockery rattled. She looked at me in wonderment, and, lifting the teapot, she made for the door.

'Excuse me, Betty, and pardon my levity,' I said; 'but just one moment'----

'Oh, I'll excuse ye,' she said, as she halted. 'There's nocht I like better mysel' than a guid laugh, but it maun be at something funny; an'

if it's Joe you're laughin' at, he was far frae funny this mornin', I tell ye.'

'I can well understand that, Betty; but I was going to say'----

'Maister Weelum, excuse me interruptin' ye, but do ye believe in ghosts?'

'Do I believe in ghosts? Certainly not. Why do ye ask?'

'Weel, I'm gled to hear ye dinna believe in them. I say wi' you; but Joe's juist been tellin' me that he met a leddy this mornin' on the public street that he could sweer died twenty-fower years bygane. So what mak' ye o' that?'

'Oh Betty, Joe's most surely talking nonsense. Where did you say he met the lady?'

'Haith, Joe'll no' alloo it's nonsense. He's very positive aboot it. His story to me was that he cam' suddenly on her gaun roon Harper's corner, an' he was so frichtened an' surprised that a' gumption left him, an' he couldna look efter her either to mak' sure o' her or to see where she was gaun. He was as white as a sheet when he cam' in to me, an' between the fricht an' the lang want o' his dram, he was in sic a state that I'm sure the Lord will c.o.o.nt me justified in gi'en him a mouthfu'. What I telt ye before was only half the truth, an' noo ye ken a'.'

I don't know Joe very well. Since he came home I have had few opportunities of meeting him and a.n.a.lysing him; but when Betty was talking he was very vividly flung on the screen, so to speak, and a possible trait in his character occurred to me.

'Betty,' I said, 'don't you think that Joe has just worked up his ghost story and feigned excitement and agitation, knowing you had spirits in the house, and that in the peculiar circ.u.mstances you would produce the bottle?'

'No, no, I dinna think that. Joe's a Hebron, as I've said, an' the Hebrons ha'e neither the cleverness to think a thing like that oot nor the guile to carry it through. No, no, Maister Weelum; Joe met the leddy, whaever she may be, richt enough. I'm quite sure aboot that pairt o't; but of coorse he's wrang aboot the burial. It's been some yin very like her, an' Joe's juist mistaken. Had this happened when he was as I ha'e seen him I wad never ha'e gi'en it a thocht; but this mornin'--weel, the man was--was ower sober to be healthy.'

'As you say, he's just made a mistake, Betty. At best, Joe's a mysterious individual; these annual disappearances are remarkable. Have you yet learned exactly where he goes?'

Her alert ear detected a cessation of brus.h.i.+ng and whistling, and she walked quietly to the door, keeked past it, and then gently turned the handle. 'He has finished your buits,' she said, 'an' he's gettin'

Nathan's Sabbath-day yins doon frae the shelf to gi'e them a rub. Do I ken where he gangs? Ay, I do. For a lang time I jaloused; but last nicht he telt me a' aboot it, an', as it turns oot, I havena been very far frae the mark. His wife has a wee temperance hotel--a temperance yin--she kens Joe!--in a toon ca'd Brighton. She can manage a' richt hersel' in the dull pairt o' the year, but she's forced to get Joe in the busy time to gi'e her a haun wi' the fires an' the luggage an'

siclike. She was only aince here, an' we didna see much o' her; but frae the little I did see I wad tak' her to be a fell purposefu' woman, mair cut oot for fechtin' in a toon than settlin' doon to the quiet, humdrum life o' Thornhill. Joe in the airmy wad dootless be a' richt, but oot o't an' hangin' aboot here wi' a decent pension he wad juist be an impossibility. I was kind o' sorry for her when she was here. She had never been in this pairt before, an' she didna tak' very kindly to it.

She couldna understaun what we said, an' we were in the same fix when she spoke. The first nicht she was in this hoose Nathan, for Joe's sake, tried to ca' the crack wi' her; but it gied him a sair heid, so he juist smiled an' noddit to her efter that. She put twae months in here, an'

then she went away on her ain. First she kept lodgers; then she took this wee hotel, an' by a' acc.o.o.nts she's doin' weel. But it's a queer, queer life for baith o' them. Never a letter pa.s.ses between them, an'