Part 7 (1/2)
”What was wrang wi' him?” asked Mary. ”There's an awfu' heap o' measles gaun aboot.”
”Not that,” said the Sergeant, smiling; ”but it was to mak' him weel, no' to mak' you play, that I pit him oot. But ye see G.o.d kens aboot the bird, and it was Him that made him, and that feeds him; and see hoo he sleeps ower your new bed,--for that's whaur Charlie used to sleep; and ye'll sleep there, dear, and bide wi' me; and G.o.d, that takes care o'
the wee birds, will tak' care o' you.”
Mary said nothing, but turned her face and hid it in the Sergeant's bosom, next his heart; and he was more than ever persuaded that his heart was not wrong in wis.h.i.+ng the orphan to lie there.
”Mary,” the Sergeant whispered to her after a while, ”ye maun aye ca' me faither.”
Mary lay closer to his heart.
Katie, who had been sitting in the same arm-chair which she had occupied in the morning, heard her husband's words, and rising, bent over the child, and added, ”And, Mary, ye maun aye ca' me mither.”
The starling, who was asleep, suddenly awoke, as if startled, shook himself, elevated his yellow bill above the round ball of feathers, turned his head and looked at the group with his full bright eye, and although too drowsy to say ”I'm Charlie's bairn,” he evidently remembered the relations.h.i.+p, and would have expressed it too--partly from jealousy, partly from love--had he not been again overpowered by sleep.
”We'll hae wors.h.i.+p,” said the Sergeant, as he put Mary down, and placed her in a little chair which had never been occupied since his boy died.
After reading the Scriptures--the portion chosen was the 23rd Psalm--the Sergeant prayed, Mary concluding at his request by repeating the Lord's Prayer aloud. They then retired to rest--Charlie's cot once more occupied; and the quiet stars never shone on a more peaceful home.
CHAPTER X
THE SERGEANT ALONE WITH THE STARLING
Mr. Smellie called upon the Sergeant next forenoon. His manner was cold and formal, as that of one who had power, if not right, on his side, and whose pride was flattered by the conviction that his real or supposed opponent was in the wrong. His reception was equally cold, for although Adam had respect for his minister, and also for Mr. Menzies, he had, as we have already said, none whatever for Mr. Smellie.
”Mr. Mercer,” said Smellie, ”I have called on you, in order first of all to correct a grave error you have committed in regard to Mary Semple, the child boarded by the Kirk Session with Mrs. Craigie.”
”I'm not aware, Mr. Smellie,” replied the Sergeant, ”that _you_ are the Kirk Session, or have any richt whatsomever to correct my error, as ye ca't, in this matter.”
Smellie smiled sarcastically, and added, ”In a friendly way, at least, Mr. Mercer. You, of course, ken that the whole expense of the bairn must be borne by yersel', for I don't believe that the Session will pay one farthing to you--not a farthing!--as you have ta'en her from Mrs.
Craigie on your ain responsibility.”
”I ken a' that; and I ken also that I mean to keep her frae Mrs.
Craigie, unless the Session and the law hinder me, and compel me to gie her up; which is no' likely; but if they do, on them be the curse of injuring the orphan. Understan' then that I mean to keep her at my ain expense, even should the Session offer to pay for her. Anything else, Mr. Smellie?”
”Weel then, Mr. Mercer,” said Smellie, ”see til't, see til't; for there will be determined opposition to you.”
”I have had worse in my day, Mr. Smellie,” drily replied the Sergeant, ”and I'm no' feared. In the meantime Mary remains here, and I'm determined she'll never return to Mrs. Craigie--that's settled. An' if the Session kent the woman as I do, and maybe as ye do, they wad be thankfu', as I am, that Mary is wi' me and no' wi' her. Onything mair to complain o' in what ye ca' a freendly way?”
”Oh, naething, naething!” said Mr. Smellie, with pent-up annoyance, ”except that the committee which the Session appointed--that's me and Mr. Menzies--to deal with you about this scandal--a most unpleasant business--mean to ca' upo' you this evening at six, if that hour will suit.”
”As weel, or as ill, as ony other hour, Mr. Smellie,” replied Adam, ”for I dinna mean to be dealt wi', either by you or by Mr. Menzies.”
”No' to be dealt with, Mr. Mercer! Do ye mean to say that ye won't even receive the committee?” he asked with amazement.
”That's jist exactly what I mean, Mr. Smellie!” replied Adam; ”I don't mean to receive your committee, that's plain, and you may tak' a minute o't. If ye wish to ken why, ye had better speer at Mr. Porteous. But ye needna trouble yoursel' wi' me. What I have said I'll stan' to like a man; what I have promised I'll perform like a Christian; and what I canna do, I winna do! If ye need mair explanation, this maybe will suffice:--that I'll no' kill my bird for you, nor for the Session, nor yet for the minister, nor for the hail parish; and that ye may as well try tae kill me wi' blank cartridge, as try yer han' in persuading me to kill the starling. Sae, Mr. Smellie, as far as that business is concerned, ye may gang hame, and no wat yer shoon to come my gait ony mair.”
”Sae be't, sae be't!” replied Smellie, with a cackle of a laugh, as much as to say, ”I have him!” He then bowed and departed, walking silently like a cat along the street, but not purring. Yet he seemed to be feeling for something with the long hairs which projected from his whiskers like bristles.