Duncan Polite Part 12

"That's just to make Don jealous. Jess is awful cute!" said Maggie, who was making intermittent attempts to wash the breakfast dishes.

Jessie was accustomed to such attacks, for she was the sweetest-tempered member of the family, with much of her father's grave gentleness, and she received even more than her share of teasing. But her heart was still very sore over her disagreement with Donald, and she bent lower over her sewing.

"Be quiet, Mag," said Bella, who was the only one in the Hamilton household who exercised any authority. "Leave Jess alone and go on with your work."

Maggie seated herself complacently upon the sewing machine box and swung her dish-towel to and fro. "To tell you the truth, Liza," she said solemnly, "I believe the minister was scared. I think he thought that when Splinterin' Andra got done makin' kindlin' wood o' the organ, he'd make sausage meat o' him, an' if he was in that condition he couldn't marry Jess----"

"To Don Neil," put in Sarah neatly.

"Mother, come and make the girls be quiet," pleaded the victim.

"Jess would make a fine minister's wife, though, Liza," continued Maggie, knowing well that every word she uttered would be repeated verbatim to Mrs. Fraser at the earliest possible date. "She takes pious fits, doesn't she, mother?"

"I never notice much piety about any of you," retorted Mrs. Hamilton smartly.

"Oh, mother Hamilton, you ought to be ashamed to own it, and here's Bella and Jess getting themselves fixed to join the church. Shouldn't wonder but I'll be doing something rash like that myself, now that I've turned Christian Endeavourer."

"A fine specimen of a Christian Endeavorer you are," said Miss Cotton scornfully. "An' you an active member, too!"

"Of course! I wouldn't be in anything where I couldn't be active.

It's heaps o' fun."

"My goodness, if you giddy folks had old Mr. Cameron over you, he'd show you how to behave. It's my private opinion the minister don't know a Christian from a wheelbarrow or he wouldn't have all you feather-heads joining his societies."

"That's true, I do believe," agreed Maggie, "or he'd never a' got you for President of the Ladies' Aid, for you know you say heaps more than your prayers!"

"Maggie, you're a caution; do behave!" cried her mother, glancing at Miss Cotton with secret pride to see how she appreciated Maggie's sharp tongue.

"Oh, she's gone daft. Don't listen to her, 'Liza," cried Bella impatiently. "Whatever do you 'spose made Mr. Egerton turn 'round and act the way he did, anyhow?"

Miss Cotton looked mysterious. "I know a good bit more about that chap than I've ever told," she said, nodding her head in a tantalising manner. "I've got a letter over home that might throw some light on the matter." She took up her work again, waiting for this startling piece of intelligence to take effect.

"What in the world is it, 'Liza?" cried Mrs. Hamilton, approaching the sewing machine. "I jist knew by the look o' you when you came in that you'd something in your mind that----"

"That's so, she does look queer," declared Maggie, stopping, with her dish-cloth suspended, to examine Miss Cotton critically. "Now, I've seen 'Liza so often when her mind was empty----"

"Don't listen to her, 'Liza!" cried Jessie, her small mouth twitching with laughter. "What were you going to say?"

"Well, if that young gas-bag would shut up for half a minit, I'd tell you something pretty queer about the minister. But, mind you, it's a dead secret, and you must _promise_----"

There was a chorus of solemn pledges to secrecy from the group which collected hastily around the sewing machine. Mrs. Hamilton left her bread-making and came, with floury hands held carefully away from the blue silk, to listen.

Miss Cotton leaned back in her chair and raised her scissors. Such moments as this were her happiest. "Well, I don't pretend to know what made him change his mind so sudden," she said, lowering her voice mysteriously, "for I don't, not any more than that sewing machine; but I do know somethin' about him, that not a soul in Glenoro knows, an' it makes me have some idea why he acts so queer." A solemn silence fell over the listeners.

"I've known it for two whole days, an' never whispered it to a livin'

soul!" she added, proud of this achievement in reticence.

"My! it's a wonder you didn't explode." Maggie's voice somewhat relieved the tension. The narrator paid no heed.

"Now I guess you won't believe me, but mind you, I seen that fellow before he ever came here. It was when I was in Toronto that fall, visitin' Maria, an' you'd never guess where I seen him, if you was to try from now to the crack o' doom!"

She resumed her sewing with the most aggravating coolness.

"Drunk in the street," suggested Maggie.

"Maggie, it's awful to talk about a minister like that!" cried her mother, weakening her reproof with a laugh.

"Where in the world was it, 'Liza?"

Miss Cotton resumed her oratorical att.i.tude. "Well, mind you, I never knew myself that I'd ever clapped eyes on him, till night before last, but his face puzzled the senses out o' me ever since he came here.

Only I'd heard so much about what old McAlpine looked like, that I thought it was because he looked like him. But if I've told Mrs.

Fraser once, I've told her a dozen times that----"

"Oh, go on with your yarn!" Maggie's dish-cloth was waving impatiently.

"Well, you mind that fall I went to the Exhibition an' stayed with Maria till near Christmas? My, the sights I did see that time! You girls ought to take a trip to the city now, why----"

"Oh, never mind, 'Liza," said Maggie, knowing the narrator's weakness.

"Settle the minister first, an' you can talk Toronto all day after."

"My! but you're anxious about him, Maggie! That's a bad sign. Well, as I was sayin', I stayed all fall, you know, an' Maria she was bound and determined I'd see an' hear everything that was worth while, an'

her and James they jist trotted me 'round till I was near dead. James Turner does make Maria an awful kind man, I will say, though I ain't got much use for men. Well, one night we went to a high-toned concert, got up by a lot o' college fellows. I tell you there's where you see the fine lookin' chaps! Don Neil couldn't hold a candle to them, the way they was dressed up, reg'lar doods every one o' them, an' the style! If I'd been a young thing like one o' you girls now, I'd a lost my heart a dozen times over. But if you'd a' seen the fellows that took part in the concert, you'd a' died, the way they were rigged up!

They all came a-flippin' an' a-floppin' out onto the platform, an'

besides their pants an' coats, every mother's son o' them had on some kind of a long cloak, for all the world like Mrs. Duffy's black dolman.

An' they had the curiousest things on their heads, jist exactly like the black shingles that was flyin' 'round here the night the sawmill burned down!"

"Why, they were college gowns and caps," said Sarah; "Don Neil and Allan Fraser are both going to get them."

"Well, don't I know that, you young upstart. An' Mrs. Fraser's in an awful way about Allan wearin' one, too, but that don't prove that they didn't look jist like the mischief itself."

"Dear me, do they wear them kind o' things out amongst other folks?"

inquired Mrs. Hamilton in mild alarm. She had supposed that such raiment would be confined to the seclusion of one's own bed chamber.

"Indeed, they jist do, Mrs. Hamilton. If Jessie an' Don Neil makes up this little lovers' quarrel they've got up lately, you'll have him comin' flappin' down the hill to see her in one o' them next winter.

But reelly, you wouldn't believe what awful trollops they were; an' if I couldn't turn out a stylisher lookin' wrapper an' a mighty better fit, too, I'd go an' choke myself."

"You'll choke before you get this story told, if you don't quit talkin'," said the plain-spoken Maggie. "Did the minister have a wrapper on?"

But Miss Cotton had a fine eye to the structure of a story. "Oh, I'm comin' to him, at the right time. Well, as I was sayin', there was a whole swarm o' these fellows came floppin' an' flounderin' onto the platform an' they all squat down in a long row with their wrappers an'

shingles on, an' started to play like all possessed on what they call bangjoes or some such tomfoolery."

"Banjoes," corrected Sarah. "Lots of the boys and girls play them at the High School."

The orator paid no attention.

"An' they set there fiddle-dee-deein' for about a quarter of an hour,--an' now I'm comin' to the important part. There was one tall, good-lookin' chap, sittin' right in the middle o' the row----"

"Mr. Egerton," whispered Maggie.