Betty Grier Part 7

'Ah, is that so?' she sympathetically asked. 'I'm sorry, noo, to ken that. He must ha'e been workin' among leaf-mould the day.'

'He was, Betty; he told me so.'

'That acc.o.o.nts for it, Maister Weelum. Nathan's awfu' queer that wey; but, puir falla, he canna help it; an' then ye ken he means sae terribly weel. I'm awfu' sorry, though, if his crack has depressed ye. Ye're juist a wee bittie doon i' the mooth the noo, an' ye'll be easily putten aboot; but keep your p.e.c.k.e.r up, like a guid laddie, an' ye'll soon be better in health an' better in spirits. Efter a', an' when a''s considered, ye've a lot to be thankfu' for. Mony a yin wad gladly change places wi' ye. It's a gey hard, step-motherly kind o' world this for some folk; but you--weel, I wad say ye've your fu' share o' blessin's.'

I looked keenly toward her while she was speaking. 'You are perfectly right, my dear Betty,' I said. 'I have my full share of blessings, and every reason to be thankful and grateful. Why, Betty, when I think of it, it is a downright sin in me to allow myself to become depressed. It would be much more to the purpose were I to bestir myself and do all I can to help others, whose share of the good things is less, and whose burdens are greater. By the way, Betty, were you crying downstairs about half-an-hour ago?'

'No, Maister Weelum, I was not cryin'.'

'Strange,' I said; 'I was sure I heard some one sobbing.'

Betty stooped down and poked the smoking coals into glowing flame. Then she pulled down my window-blind and drew the curtains together. 'Oh, you're quite richt; you dootless did hear greetin', but it wasna me;'

and she sat down again and unrolled her knitting, but she didn't ply her needles.

'D'ye mind,' she continued after a long pause,' you an' me speakin'

aboot Tom Jardine the grocer, oor next-door neebor, ye ken?'

'Perfectly, Betty,' I replied; and at mention of his name I saw in my mind's eye a rain-swept courtyard, a haggard, worried face, and a golden-haired bairn. Intuitively I saw more--troubles, big mental troubles which crush the heart and soul out of a man. Oh! I hadn't forgotten.

'Weel,' she continued, a tremor in her voice, 'it was Tom Jardine's wife that was greetin' in the kitchen, an' I'm juist dyin' to speak to you, for what she has telt me is lyin' at my he'rt like a stane. Are ye weel enough, think ye, to be bothered listenin'?'

'My dear Betty, where two old friends like you and Tom Jardine are concerned, nothing is, or can be, a bother; so proceed, if you please.'

She began to knit, then stopped and counted her st.i.tches, while I filled and lit my pipe.

'Little mair than a week bygane,' she began, 'I was in Tom's shop for some odds and ends, and when he was servin' me, says he, "Mrs Hebron, I fully expected to be able to clear off ten pounds of that auld balance this back-end term; but I'm beginning to be feart that'll no' be possible." The balance he referred to, Maister Weelum, was thirty pounds--half o' the sixty Nathan an' me loaned his faither. Ye mind I telt ye aboot that?'

I nodded.

'"Weel, Tom," says I,' she continued, '"that's a' richt. Don't fash your mind aboot that." "But, Mrs Hebron," says he, "I canna help worryin'

aboot it. I'm very sorry indeed, an' I trust my no' payin' ye the noo will no' put ye aboot?" "Not in the slichtest, Tom," says I; "mak' your time my time. I ken what ye've set your face to do, an' I couldna wish ye better luck in your endeavour if ye were my ain bairn." His he'rt filled, puir laddie, an' he thanked me, an' he began to tell me what a bother he had in gettin' in his money. He showed me twae acc.o.o.nts, yin for fifty pounds an' anither for sixty-five, that have been lyin' oot for mair than a year. It seems that when he was in that big warehoose in Glesca he had some experience in the seed line, an', havin' a guid connection wi' groceries among the farmers roond aboot here, it struck him he could, wi' little mair expense, work the twae very profitably thegither. Weel, he started to do this, an' in the last twal'months he has selled an awfu' lot. But it appears that seed rins to money quickly, an' the twae acc.o.o.nts ootlyin', an' aboot which he was so anxious, are, as it were, in this department. The want o' this money has keepit him very ticht, an' he's been aff baith his meat an' his sleep ower the heid o't. Weel, to mak' a lang story short, the farmers ha'e baith failed.

Tom got word yesterday, an', as it's thocht they're gey bad failures, an' very little ootcome expected, he's nearly demented. He has gane ower his books, an' he sees he can pey twenty shillin's in the pound; but, to do that, it means handin' ower his stock, furniture, an' hoose, an'

he'll come oot o't wi' nocht but the claes on his back. His wife, puir la.s.sie, was in the nicht tellin' me a' aboot it. It was her ye heard greetin'. She has keepit a stoot he'rt an' a smilin' face to Tom; but whenever I put my haun kindly an' mitherly-like on her shooder she broke doon an' grat as if her he'rt was breakin', so I juist took the wee bundle o' s.p.u.n.k an' dejection in my airms, an' she had it a' oot there.

Tom's gaun up to the lawyer the morn to hand everything ower to him, an'

Mrs Jardine and the bairns are leavin' Thornhill on Friday to stay wi'

her mither till Tom gets wark somewhere. Noo, Maister Weelum, I want your advice, an' if ye chairge me sax an' eightpence for it I'll--I'll juist no' pey't;' and a tear-drop broke from her eye as she smiled. She rose from her chair, laid aside her knitting, and coming over to my bedside, she put her hand on my arm. 'I've still got the hunder pounds in the bank which your mother left to me, Maister Weelum,' she said.

'Nathan an' me ha'e saved fifty mair. I never had a bairn o' my ain, an'

thae three wee curly-heided angels o' Tom's ha'e worked their wey into my he'rt, an' I juist canna let them away. D'ye think the mistress--your mother, I mean--wad ha'e me gi'in' the money in this way?'

I thought for a moment, and Betty watched me keenly. 'Am I to understand, Betty, that you are willing to step into the breach and give Tom Jardine one hundred and fifty pounds--your all?'

'Yes--if ye think it wad be your mother's will.'

'Betty, if Nathan won't object, will you please put your arms round my neck and give me a kiss?' I said, and I raised my head from my pillow.

The wind has died down, and through the lown midnight air I heard the Auld Kirk clock strike the hour of twelve. Tom Jardine has just left my room. He has been with me for almost three hours, and we have had a long smoke together and a grand talk over the times and folks of auld langsyne. Betty, as an interested party, favoured us with her company part of the time, for Nathan was sleeping the sleep of the just and the tired, and the kitchen fire had long gone out. She was surprised to know that Tom's difficulties could be overcome and his affairs straightened out without her little legacy and her hard-earned savings being requisitioned. Only Tom and I know how this was arranged, and as it is a little matter of personal interest to us, and us alone, the details of the transaction will remain untold.

I am having a run of strange coincidences just now. When Betty was locking the door after Tom's departure I lifted my book to mark the page where I had left off on Nathan's coming into my room, and the paragraph opposite my thumb is as follows: 'I will pa.s.s through this world but once. If, therefore, there be any good thing I can do, or any kindness I can show, let me do it now. Let me not neglect it or defer it, for I shall never pa.s.s this way again.'

I shall read this to Betty to-morrow morning, and tell her that, though she may not have the faculty of thus beautifully and poetically expressing a sentiment, she lives it to the letter every day of her life.

CHAPTER VIII.

To-day, when Betty was tidying my room, I took the opportunity of referring to Nathan's conversation of the previous evening, particularly that portion of it in which he advised me to take up my quarters downstairs. From the insinuating way in which he had introduced the subject, and the allusions he had made to my 'no weel' look, I naturally concluded that his advice might be interpreted as a hint to me that I was not so well as I fondly imagined; and that, for my own good, and for the convenience of my faithful old nurse--not to speak of obviating the necessity of taking a six-foot coffin down a narrow staircase with a sharp turn--I ought to agree to his proposal at once and without demur.

Betty now a.s.sures me, however, that if I am contented and comfortable in my own little room, she is quite satisfied. I am not for a moment to imagine that she advocates the change for the sake of saving her any trouble in attending on me. 'There's nae trouble where ye are concerned, Maister Weelum,' she said. 'I look on ye amaist as my very ain bairn, an' I c.o.o.nt it a privilege to get waitin' hand an' foot on ye. It's a nice, easy stair to climb, it's handy for the kitchen, an' mair an'

forby, it's no' as if ye'll aye be lyin' here. In a day or twae, or a week at maist, ye'll be up an' aboot again. A' the same, Maister Weelum, believe me when I say that ever sin' ye cam' to bide here I've thocht it a pity that ye didna use the dinin'-room. I understaun your likin' for this wee room. It was aye your very ain, an' mebbe a' richt to sleep in, though the sooth bedroom is bigger an' airier; but it's juist no'--it's juist no' like a room that ye should ha'e your meat in, ye ken. When you're up an' aboot again ye'll mebbe think it ower.'

'Is the dining-room in good order, Betty?' I asked.

'It's juist as the mistress left it, Maister Weelum,' she said, with a catch in her voice. 'I've things covered to keep oot the dust, an' I've lifted an' cleaned, but juist aye replaced again. Nathan an' me are never in it, except to lift the winda on guid days to air it, or to pit a fire on noo an' again when the weather's damp. The kitchen an' oor back-room are guid enough for us, and we've juist, as it were, keepit the rest o' the hoose on trust. The picters in your mother's wee drawin'-room are a' juist as they were, the piano-lid has never been lifted since she shut it, an' her auld china and other knick-knacks are as clean an' weel cared for as they were when she handled them hersel'.

I've often gane up the stairs, ta'en a bit look in, an' come doon again a prood, prood woman that she considered me worthy to live amang it a', an' to tak' care o't.'

Betty and I have a community of interests in the long ago, a joint possession of memories which will ever be our dearest treasure. The links which bind us together were forged away back in the misty past; but time corrodes them not, and they are stronger to-day than ever they were before. To do her will was my sure pleasure, and so I began gracefully to waive, one by one, objections I had entertained, and to acquiesce with her and back up her arguments by referring to the coming wintry months, the comforts of the dining-room, its large, roomy fireplace, and the cheery, heartsome outlook the window commanded of the Cross and the Dry Gill.

'But, Betty,' I said, 'we'll have to do something to give it a more modern look. If I remember aright, the ceiling and cornice are very dark, and the wall-paper is a dismal green, patched with a gold fleur-de-lis, and it has been on too long to be healthy.'

'Ay, weel, mebbe ye're richt; an' ye mentionin' wall-paper reminds me that the damp frae the gable has discoloured the end wa'. But the whitewashin' and paperin' o' ae room will no' be a big job, an' aince we gi'e the painter the order we'll no' ha'e lang to wait for him. His back-en' slackness is on noo. I saw him paintin' his ain doors and windas; an', as there's little chance o' him gettin' fat on that wark, he'll no' swither aboot gi'in' it up for what is likely to pey better.

Imphm! Mebbe I should ha'e seen to this afore noo. The fact is, Maister Weelum, except for a few shillin's for paintin' the outside woodwark, I've spent no' a penny on paint or paper for the hoose since Nathan an'

me were marrit. I should ha' had things in better order for ye; but, believe me, it was juist want o' thocht.'

'Nonsense, Betty; the whole house is in apple-pie order. There was no call for you to spend money on painting and papering, and I won't allow you to do that now. This is my little affair, Betty, and all I ask you to do is to see the painter and arrange for the work to be done as soon as possible.'

'Do you mean, Maister Weelum, that ye're to pey the whole thing?'

'Most certainly. So, my dear Betty, please say no more on that point, as my mind is made up and unalterable.'

'Weel, weel, sae be it. "Them that will to Cupar maun to Cupar." What kind o' a paper wad ye think o' puttin' on?'

Within my own mind I had decided on a nice warm buff canvas, but I refrained from giving my opinion. 'What do you think would be nice, Betty?'

Of old I remembered the garish colouring of the paper on her bedroom walls. Her taste in this was always a law unto the paper-hanger, and my mother used to shiver when she peeped in, and wondered how Betty could sleep peacefully in such a profusion of colour.

Betty pondered over my question for a moment. 'Mrs Black, the clogger's wife, got her parlour done up last spring, an' it looks juist beautifu'.

The paper has a kind o' mauve gr'und wi' a gold stripe runnin' up, an'

roon the stripe there's a winkle-w.a.n.kle o' nice big blue roses, an' a wee bit o' forget-me-not tied wi' a pink ribbon keeks oot here and there, juist as if it was hangin' in the air.'

'Blue roses are not natural, Betty.'

'No, so Nathan says; but they're most by-ordinar' bonny, an' they're hangin' roon this gold stripe for a' the world as if they were newly blawn; an'--an' the leaves are a brisk green, an' the buds standin' oot abune the bloom as like as life, an' a' this beautifu' colourin' for a shillin' a piece! It was John Boyes the painter that put it on, an' he telt Mrs Black that there was only anither room like hers, an' it was in the Crystal Palace at London.'

'A shilling a piece, Betty!' I said, in astonishment, just for something to say. 'Oh, but I would give more than that!'