Part 33 (1/2)
”I see what 'tis,” his father called after him; ”she's give ye a tryst at Kenmuir. Oh, ye randy David!”
”Yo' tend yo' business; I'll tend mine,” the boy answered hotly.
Now it happened that on the previous day Maggie had given him a photograph of herself, or, rather, David had taken it and Maggie had demurred. As he left the room it dropped from his pocket. He failed to notice his loss, but directly he was gone M'Adam pounced on it.
”He! he! Wullie, what's this?” he giggled, holding the photograph into his face. ”He! he! it's the jade hersel', I war'nt; it's Jezebel!”
He peered into the picture.
”She kens what's what, I'll tak' oath, Wullie. See her eyes--sae saft and languis.h.i.+n'; and her lips--such lips, Wullie!” He held the picture down for the great dog to see: then walked out of the room, still sn.i.g.g.e.ring, and chucking the face insanely beneath its cardboard chin.
Outside the house he collided against David. The boy had missed his treasure and was hurrying back for it.
”What yo' got theer?” he asked suspiciously.
”Only the pictur' o' some randy quean,” his father answered, chucking away at the inanimate chin.
”Gie it me!” David ordered fiercely. ”It's mine.”
”Na, na,” the little man replied. ”It's no for sic douce lads as dear David to ha' ony touch wi' leddies sic as this.”
”Gie it me, I tell ye, or I'll tak' it!” the boy shouted.
”Na, na; it's ma duty as yer dad to keep ye from sic limmers.” He turned, still smiling, to Red Wull.
”There ye are, Wullie!” He threw the photograph to the dog. ”Tear her, Wullie, the Jezebel!”
The Tailless Tyke sprang on the picture, placed one big paw in the very centre of the face, forcing it into the muck, and tore a corner off; then he chewed the sc.r.a.p with unctious, s...o...b..ring gluttony, dropped it, and tore a fresh piece.
David dashed forward.
”Touch it, if ye daur, ye brute!” he yelled; but his father seized him and held him back.
”'And the dogs o' the street,'” he quoted. David turned furiously on him.
”I've half a mind to brak' ivery bone in yer body!” he shouted, ”robbin'
me o' what's mine and throwin' it to yon black brute!”
”Whist, David, whist!” soothed the little man. ”Twas but for yer ain good yer auld dad did it. 'Twas that he had at heart as he aye has.
Rin aff wi' ye noo to Kenmuir. She'll mak' it up to ye, I war'nt. She's leeberal wi' her favors, I hear. Ye've but to whistle and she'll come.”
David seized his father by the shoulder.
”An' yo' gie me much more o' your sauce,” he roared.
”Sauce, Wullie,” the little man echoed in a gentle voice.
”I'll twist yer neck for yo'!”
”He'll twist my neck for me.”