Part 15 (1/2)

Tammas rushed into the middle of the way and picked up a stone.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”'HOOT MON!'”]

”Pit your bogie pate oot o' your weendow, me gillie!” he cried. ”I'll gie it a garry crack. Pit it oot, I say! Pit it oot!”

And the old man drew himself back into an att.i.tude which would have defied the powers of Phidias to reproduce in marble, the stone poised accurately and all too ready to be hurled.

”Ye ramshackle macloonatic!” he cried. ”Standin' in a weendow, where nane may see, an' heepin' eensoolts on deecint fowk. Pit it oot--pit it oot--an' get it crackit!”

The reply was instant:

”Gang awa', gang awa'--ha, ha, ha!”

Had Lang Tammas been a creation of Lever, he would at this point have removed his coat and his hat and thrown them down violently to earth, and then have whacked the walk three times with the stout stick he carried in his right hand, as a preliminary to the challenge which followed. But Tammas was not Irish, and therefore not impulsive. He was Scotch--as Scotch as ever was. Wherefore he removed his hat, and, after dusting it carefully, hung it up on a convenient hook; took off his coat and folded it neatly; picked up his ”faithfu' steck,” and observed:

”I hae naething to do that's of eemportance. Drumsheugh can wait, an'

sae can ee. Pit it oot, pit it oot! Here I am, an' here I stay until ye pit it oot to be crackit.”

”Gang awa', gang awa'--ha, ha, ha!” came the reply.

Lang Tammas turned on the instant to the sources of the sound. He fixed his eyes sternly on the very window whence he thought the words had issued.

”Number twanty-three, saxth floor,” he muttered to himself. ”I will call, and then we shall see what we _shall_ see; and if what we see gets off wi'oot a thorough 'hootin',' then I dinna ken me beezniss.”

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”A SWEET-FACED NURSE APPEARED”]

Hastily discarding his outward wrath, and a.s.suming such portions of his garments as went with his society manner, Tammas walked into the lobby of the apartment-house in which his a.s.sumed insulter lived. He pushed the electric b.u.t.ton in, and shortly a sweet-faced nurse appeared.

”Who are you?” she asked.

”Me,” said Lang Tammas, somewhat abashed. ”I've called too see the head o' the hoose.”

”I am sorry,” said the trained nurse, bursting into tears, ”but the head of the house is at the point of death, sir, and cannot see you until to-morrow. Call around about ten o'clock.”

”Hoots an' toots!” sighed Lang Tammas. ”Canna we Scuts have e'er a story wi'oot somebody leein' at the point o' death! It's most affectin', but doonricht wearin' on the const.i.tootion.”

”Was there anything you wished to say to him?” asked the nurse.

”Oh, aye!” returned Lang Tammas. ”I dinna ken hoo to deny that I hed that to say to him, an' to do to him as weel. I'm a vairy truthfu' mon, young lady, an' if ye must be told, I've called to wring his garry neck for dereesively gee'in an unoffending veesitor frae Thrums by yelling deealect at him frae the hoose-tops.”

”Are you sure it was here?” asked the nurse, anxiously, the old gentleman seemed so deeply in earnest.

”Sure? Oh, aye--pairfectly,” replied Lang Tammas; but even as he spoke, the falsity of his impression was proved by the same strident voice that had so offended before, coming from the other side of the street:

”What a crittur ye are, ye cow! What a crittur ye are!”

”Soonds are hard to place, ma'am,” said Lang Tammas, jerking about as if he had been shot. It was a very hard position for the old man, for, with the immediate need for an apology to the nurse, there rushed over him an overwhelming wave of anger. Hitherto it was merely a suspicion that he was being made sport of that had irritated him, but this last outburst--”What a crittur ye are, ye cow!”--was convincing evidence that it was to him that the insults were addressed; for in Thrums it is history that Hendry and T'nowhead and Jim McTaggart frequently greeted Lang Tammas's jokes with ”Oh, ye cow!” and ”What a crittur ye are!” But the old man was equal to the emergency, and fixing one eye upon the house opposite and the other upon the sweet-faced nurse, he darted glances that should kill at his persecutor, and at the same time apologized for disturbing the nurse. The latter he did gracefully.

”Ye look aweary, ma'am,” he said. ”An' if the head o' the hoose maun dee, may he dee immejiately, that ye may rest soon.”