Part 16 (1/2)
”Vera weel. We willna differ about an hour or twa.”
”I didna sleep gude last night. A box bed isna quite the thing for an auld woman like me.”
Maggie hesitated. Her own little room was very dear to her. It gave her a measure of privacy, and all her small treasures had their place in it. The concealed, or box bed, in the house place wall, had been David's sleeping place. It was warm and thoroughly comfortable; it was the usual, and favorite bed of all people of Janet Caird's cla.s.s. Maggie wondered at her objection; especially as her own room was exposed to the north wind, and much colder than the house place. She based her opposition on this ground--
”You can hae my room if it please you better, Aunt Janet; but it is a gey cold one in the winter; and there isna ony way to make it warmer.”
”Tuts, la.s.sie! What for wad I want your bit room, when there is my brither's room empty noo?”
She rose as she spoke, and opened the door of the apartment which Allan had so long occupied. ”It's a nice room, this is; a gude fire-place and an open bed, and you can pack awa a' those books and pictur's--they dinna look like vera improving ones--and I'll put my kist i' that corner, and just mak' mysel' quite comfortable.”
”But you canna hae this room, Aunt Janet. Neither I, nor you, hae the right to put oor foot inside it. It is rented, and the rent paid doon; and the books and pictures canna be meddled wi'; there mustna be a finger laid on them.”
”My certie! The man is gane far awa'; o'er the Atlantic Ocean itsel'--I'll bear the blame o' it. He took quite a liking to me, that was easy seen, and I'm vera sure, he willna mind me using what he canna use himsel'.”
”He put the room, and a' in it, under my care, aunt. The books are worth mair siller than you ever counted; and I wouldna let ony-body--unless it was the minister an orra time--stay in it.”
”What's the matter wi' the la.s.sie? Maggie, you are no to be bided! I'll hae this room for mysel', and that's the end o' the controversy.”
She had sat down in the big rush chair, by the still burning turfs, and she was looking round her with the critical eye of a person who is calculating the capabilities of a place. Maggie left her sitting there, and began to tidy up the house. In half an hour Janet re-appeared, and went to her kist--a great wooden box painted light blue--and began to undo its many cords and lock. Then Maggie closed the door of the disputed room, turned the key, and put it in her pocket.
The noise instantly arrested the old woman. She stood up, and cried out in a pa.s.sion, ”What's that you're doing, Maggie Promoter?”
”I'm locking Mr. Campbell's room. I'll no see you break into ony one's right, be they here, or far awa'.”
”You hizzy! You! You'll daur to call me a thief, will you?”
”Dinna fight me at the outset, Aunt Janet. If I am wrang, when Davie comes hame at the New Year, I'll gie you the key. But I'll no do it, till he says sae, no, not if I die for it! Now then?”
”Setting yoursel' up in a bleezing pa.s.sion wi' a person auld enough to be your mither! Think shame o' yoursel', Maggie Promoter!”
Maggie was certainly in a pa.s.sion. Her eyes were full of tears, her face burning, her form erect and trembling with anger. Yet she was bitterly annoyed at her own weakness; she felt degraded by her outburst of temper, and was just going to say some words of apology, when a number of women entered the cottage. There was Jenny and Maggie Johnston, and Kirsty Buchan, and Janet Thompson and Mysie Raith; five buxom wives in linsey and tartan, all talking together of their ”men” and their families.
Maggie's instincts revolted against any public discussion of her own affairs, and Aunt Janet was not disposed to tell her grievance while Maggie was present. So both women put it aside to welcome their visitors.
There was much hand-shaking, and loud talking, and then Janet Caird said with a bustling authoritative air, ”Put on the kettle, Maggie, a cup o'
tea when kimmers meet, mak's talk better;” and Maggie, dumbly resentful at the order, obeyed it.
She was not in a generous mood, and she was calculating, as she silently set the table, how much of her seven s.h.i.+llings a week would be left, when she had paid Janet Caird five out of it, and entertained all her kimmers.
When the tea was brewed, the old woman went to her blue kist, and brought out a bottle of Glenlivet, ”just to tak' off the wersh taste o' the tea;”
and Maggie, perceiving they had set down for a morning's gossip and reminiscence, said, ”I'll awa' up the beach a wee, friends. I hae a headache, and I'll see if the wind will blow it awa'.”
No one opposed the proposition. She folded her plaid around her head and shoulders and went out. Then Janet Caird put down her tea cup, looked mournfully after her, sighed, and shook her head. Upon which, there was a general sigh, and a general setting down of tea cups, and a short, but eloquent silence.
”You'll hae your ain adoo wi' that self-willed la.s.s, I'm feared, Mistress Caird.”
”'Deed, Mistress Raith, she's had o'er much o' her ain way, and she is neither to rule, nor to reason wi'.”
”Davie Promoter is a wise-like lad; he did right to bring you here.”
”And nane too soon.”