My Man Sandy Part 19

Bawbie's an awfu' cratur to tell fowk aboot me an' my ongaens. Weel, there's a lot o' truth in what she says, I maun admit; altho' she mak's a heap o' din juist aboot twa-three kyowows, noo-an'-than. I dinna ken hoo it is ava', I canna help mysel' sometimes. Man, the daftest-like ideas tak' a haud o' me whiles--juist like a flesher grippin' a sheep by the horns--an', do what I like, I canna get oot o' their grips.

For instance, I was gaen up the brae juist the ither nicht, an' the kirk offisher was stanin' at the kirk door.

"Wud ye bide i' the kirk for ten meenits till I rin hame for a bissam shaft?" says he. "I've broken the ane I have."

"Oo, ay," says I; "I'll do that."

Weel, man, I wasna twa meenits into the kirk when I windered what like it was for size aside Gayneld Park, an' I thocht I wud see if I cud rin fower times roond it in five meenits. I b.u.t.toned my coat, an' lookit the time, an' aff I set up ae pa.s.sage, ower the pletform, doon the ither pa.s.sage, throo the lobby, an' so on. I was juist aboot feenishin' when, gaen sweesh oot at ane o' the doors, I cam' clash up again' the minister, an' sent him spinnin' into the middle o' the lobby, an' the collection plate in his oxter.

"What in the name of common sense is the matter with you?" said he, gettin' up, an' shakin' the stoor aff his hat.

"Man, ye shud keep aff the coorse," says I, forgettin' for the meenit whaur I was. "I was tryin' to brak' the record."

"Break the record!" he says, in a most terrible fizz. "If it wasna for the laws of the country, I'd break your head."

Man, the pa.s.sion o' the sacket was raley veeshis. He ac'ually spat oot the wirds; an', faigs, I steekit baith my nivs an' keepit my e'e on him, for fear he micht lat dab at me.

Juist at that meenit the kirk offisher cam' in, an' the minister turned, an' gleyin' roond at me gey feared like, said something till him, an' I heard them crackin' aboot gettin' me hame in a cab. I saw in a wink what they were jaloosin'.

"Ye needna bather your heids ahoot a cab," says I. "I'm wyser than the twa o' ye puttin' thegither; so keep on your d.i.c.kies. Gude-nicht,"

says I; an' doon the front staps I gaed, three at a time, an' hame.

The beathel cam' doon afore he gaed hame, an' speered what i' the world had happened.

"I was juist comin' oot at the kirk door," says I, "when the minister cam' skelp up again' me." I didna mention 'at I was rinnin'. "The cratur drappit i' the flure," says I, "like's he'd been shot; an' then to crack aboot me bein' daft! Did ye ever hear the like?"

The kirk offisher gaed awa' hame, clawin' his heid, an' sayin' till himsel', "Weel, it raley snecks a' thing. There's some ane o' the three o's no' very soond i' the tap, shurely; an' whuther it's me or no', I raley canna mak' oot."

But what I want to lat you see is that I do thae daft-like things sometimes, I dinna very weel ken hoo. I canna tell ye what wey it comes aboot. Is ony o' ye lads ever affekit like that? Man, I've seen me gaen to the kirk wi' Bawbie sometimes, dressed in my sirtoo an' my lum, an' my gloves an' pocket-hankie, an' a'thing juist as snod's a noo thripenny bit, an', a' o' a sudden, I wud hae to pet my tongue atween my teeth, an' grip my umberell like's I was wantin' to chock it, juist to keep mysel' frae tumblin' a fleepy or a catma i' the middle o' the road amon' a' the kirk fowk, him hat, sirtoo, an' a'thegither. What can ye mak' o' the like o that? It's my opinion sometimes that I was never meent to behave mysel'; an' yet I'm sensible o' doin' most terriple stewpid things of'en. It's a mystery to me, an' a dreefu'

dw.a.n.g to Bawbie. But what can ye do? You canna get medisin for that kind o' disease! As Bawbie says, I'll never behave till I'm killed; an' the fac' o' the maitter is, I'm no' very shure aboot mysel' even efter that. I ken it's an awfu' job for Bawbie tholin' my ongaens; but, at the same time, if it wasna me, the neeper wives an her wudna hae onything to mak' a molligrant aboot ava. As the Bible says, we're fearfu' an' winderfu' made, an', I suppose, we maun juist mak' the best o't.

THE END.