The Setons Part 25

"Elizabeth," said her father, "you talk a great deal of nonsense."

"I do," agreed Elizabeth; "I'm what's known as vivacious--in other words, 'a nice bright girl.' And the funny thing is it's a thing I simply hate being. I admire enormously strong, still people. Won't it be awful if I go on being vivacious when I'm fifty? Or do you think I'll be arch then? There is something so resuscitated about vivacious spinsters." She looked gaily round the table, as if the dread future did not daunt her greatly.

Ellen had removed the plates and was handing round the pudding.

Elizabeth begged Mr. Townshend not to hurry, and to heed in no way the scrambling table manners of his host and hostess. She turned a deaf ear to his suggestion that he would like to hear her instruct her cla.s.s, a.s.suring him that he would be much better employed reading a book by the fire. Buff, she added, would be pleased to keep him company after he had learned his Sabbath evening task, eight lines of a psalm.

"Aw," said Buff. "Must I, Father?"

"Eight lines are easily learned, my son."

"Well, can I choose my own psalm?"

His father said "Certainly"; but Elizabeth warned him: "Then make him promise to learn a new one, or he'll just come with 'That man hath perfect blessedness.'"

"I won't," said Buff. "I know a nice one to learn: quite new, about a worm."

"Dear me," said his father, "I wonder what psalm that is? Well, Lizbeth, we must go. You'll find books in the drawing-room, Mr.

Townshend; and see that the fire is good."

Elizabeth's cla.s.s consisted of seven little bullet-headed boys.

To-night there was an extra one, whom she welcomed warmly--Bob Scott, the small boy whom she had befriended while collecting in the rain. She found, however, that his presence was not conducive to good conduct in the cla.s.s. Instead of lapping up the information served out to him without comment as the other boys did, he made remarks and asked searching questions. Incidents in the Bible lesson recalled to him events, generally quite irrelevant, which he insisted on relating. For instance, the calling forth of evil spirits from the possessed reminded him of the case of a friend of his, one Simpson, a baker, who one morning had gone mad and danced on the bakehouse roof, singing, "Ma sweetheart hes blue eyes," until he fell through a skylight, with disastrous results.

Bob's manners, too, lacked polish. He attracted Elizabeth's attention by saying "Hey, wumman!" he contradicted her flatly several times; but in spite of it all, she liked his impudent, pinched little face, and at the end of the hour kept him behind the other boys to ask how things were going with him. He had no mother, it seemed, and no brothers or sisters: he went to school (except when he "plunk't"), ran messages for shops, and kept house--such keeping as it got. His father, he said, was an extra fine man, except when he was drunk.

Before they parted it was arranged that Bob should visit the Seton's on Sat.u.r.day and get his dinner; he said it would not be much out of his way, as he generally spent his Sat.u.r.day mornings having a shot at "fitba'" in the park near. He betrayed no grat.i.tude for the invitation, merely saying "S'long, then," as he walked away.

On Sabbath evenings the Setons had prayers at eight o'clock, and Buff stayed up for the event. Marget and Ellen were also present, and Elizabeth played the hymns and led the singing.

"First," said Mr. Seton, "we'll have Buff's psalm."

Buff was standing on one leg, with his ill-used Bible bent back in his hand, learning furiously.

"Are you ready?" asked his father.

Buff took a last look, then handed the Bible to his father.

"It's not a psalm," he said; "it's a paraphrase."

He took a long breath, and in a curious chant, accentuating such words as he thought fit, he recited:

"Next, from the _deep_, th' Almighty King Did _vital_ beings frame; Fowls of the _air_ of ev'ry wing, And fish of every name.

To all the various _brutal_ tribes He _gave_ their wondrous birth; At once the lion _and_ the worm _Sprung_ from the teeming earth."

He only required to be prompted once, and when he had finished he drew from his pocket a paper which he handed to his father.

"What's this?" said Mr. Seton. "Ah, I see." He put his hand up to his mouth and appeared to study the paper intently.

"It's not my best," said Buff modestly.

"May I see it?" asked Elizabeth.

Buff was fond of ill.u.s.trating the Bible, and this was his idea of the Creation so far as a sheet of note-paper and rather a blunt pencil could take him. In the background rose a range of mountains on the slopes of which a bird, some beetles, and an elephant (all more or less of one size) had a precarious foot-hold. In the foreground a dishevelled lion glared at a worm which reared itself on end in a surprised way. Underneath was printed "At once the lion and the worm"--the quotation stopped for lack of s.p.a.ce.

"Very fine, Buff," said Elizabeth, smiling widely. "Show it to Mr.

Townshend."

"He's seen it," said Buff. "He helped me with the lion's legs, but I did all the rest myself--didn't I?" he appealed to the guest.

"You did, old man. We'll colour it to-morrow, when I get you that paint-box."

"Yes," said Buff, crossing the room to show his picture to Marget and Ellen, while Mr. Seton handed Arthur Townshend a hymn-book and asked what hymn he would like sung, adding that everyone chose a favourite hymn at Sabbath evening prayers. Seeing Arthur much at a loss, Elizabeth came to his help with the remark that English hymn-books were different from Scots ones, and suggesting "Lead, kindly Light," as being common to both.

Marget demanded "Not all the blood of beasts," while Ellen murmured that her favourite was "Sometimes a light surprises."

"Now, Buff," said his father.

"Prophet Daniel," said Buff firmly.

Both Mr. Seton and Elizabeth protested, but Buff was adamant. The "Prophet Daniel" he would have and none other.

"Only three verses, then," pleaded Elizabeth.

"It all," said Buff.

The hymn in question was a sort of chant. The first line ran "Where is now the Prophet Daniel?" This was repeated three times, and the fourth line was the answer: "Safe in the Promised Land."

The second verse told the details: "He went through the den of lions"

(repeated three times), "Safe to the Promised Land."

After the prophet Daniel came the Hebrew children, then the Twelve Apostles. The great point about the hymn was that any number of favourite heroes might be added at will. William Wallace Buff always insisted on, and to-night as he sang "He went up from an English scaffold" he gazed searchingly at the English guest to see if no shade of shame flushed his face; but Mr. Townshend sat looking placidly innocent, and seemed to hold himself entirely guiltless of the death of the patriot. The Covenanters came after William Wallace, and Buff with a truly catholic spirit wanted to follow with Graham of Claverhouse; but this was felt to be going too far. By no stretch of imagination could one picture the persecutor and the persecuted, the wolf and the lamb, happily sharing one paradise.

"That will do now, my son," said Mr. Seton; but Buff was determined on one more, and his shrill treble rose alone in "Where is now Prince Charles Edward?" until Elizabeth joined in, and l.u.s.tily, almost defiantly, they a.s.sured themselves that the Prince who had come among his people seeking an earthly crown had attained to a heavenly one and was "Safe in the Promised Land."

Mr. Seton shook his head as he opened the Bible to read the evening portion. "I hope so," he said, and his tone was dubious--"I hope so."

"Well!" said Elizabeth, as she said good-night to her guest, "has this been the dullest day of your life?"

Arthur Townshend looked into the mocking grey eyes that were exactly on a level with his own, and "I don't think I need answer that question,"

he said.

"The only correct answer is, 'Not at all.' But I'm quite sure you never sang so many hymns or met so many strange new specimens of humanity all in one day before."

Mr. Seton, who disliked to see books treated lightly, was putting away all the volumes that Buff had taken out in the course of the evening and left lying about on chairs and on the floor. As he locked the gla.s.s door he said:

"Lizbeth turns everything into ridicule, even the Sabbath Day."

His daughter sat down on the arm of a chair and protested.