The Silver Maple Part 8

Scotty soon managed to slip away from his grandmother, and join Betty and Peter in a corner. He found them in the same state of subdued excitement as he was himself. Peter informed him in a joyous whisper that there was a big cheese in the cupboard, and a johnny cake and blackberry preserves for the visitors, before they left. Scotty's interest in this delightful disclosure did not prevent his noticing Callum's entrance. Callum had gone with Hector to put up the team and now came marching in, the object of many admiring glances.

He displayed none of Weaver Jimmie's diffidence; but went straight over to where Mary Lauchie sat, and whispered in her ear, and Mary flushed and smiled and her plain face grew quite pretty. Even Kirsty was gracious to the handsome youth, and poor Jimmie nearly twisted his neck out of joint in his jealous efforts to do something commendable in her sight.

But all sounds were suddenly hushed, for Praying Donald was rising to announce the first psalm:

"I waited for the Lord my G.o.d, And patiently did bear, At length to me He did incline My voice and cry to hear."

His deep, rumbling voice had just completed the first few lines when he was interrupted by a clatter of bells. The door swung suddenly open, and, to the amazement of all the a.s.sembled Scots, in stalked Tom Caldwell with his wife and family!

The appearance of the leader of Methodism in the stronghold of the Presbyterians was naturally unexpected; but Tom Caldwell had been very friendly with the MacDonalds since the day they "cleared the Glen of Popery," as he said, and hearing that they were about to imitate the Flats in having a season of prayer, had journeyed all the way to the Oa, resolved to give the neighbours a helping hand in the good work, and infuse a little life and fire into the dead bones of Presbyterianism.

The leaders arose and shook hands with the newcomer solemnly, but heartily; while Long Lauchie's wife and daughters welcomed the family.

"Sure, it's the right track ye're on, Donald!" cried Tom Caldwell heartily, as he seated himself and gazed happily about him; "the Glen's gettin' to be like Sodom, that's what it is, an' it's mesilf that couldn't be lettin' the matin' pa.s.s widout comin' up an' givin' ye a helpin' hand. We'll bring down a blessin', glory be; so let's jist fire ahead an' have a rousin' time!"

The MacDonald brethren looked at each other rather aghast. Tom Caldwell's fervour, though well-meant, was a foreign element, savouring of irreverence and Methodistic confusion; but his hearty good will was irresistible; Long Lauchie gave him the place of honour next to the leader, and the meeting commenced.

Scotty scarcely heard the words of the psalm, for to his delight he found that Nancy had come, too, and was there seated beside her mother.

In spite of the fact that Nancy was Irish and tainted with Orange sentiments, Scotty had found it impossible to tear her from his heart.

He had long since made up his mind that when he grew big he would go to see her instead of Betty in the evenings. He wondered what Callum would think of her, and glanced up to see that young man staring with all his might at the subject of his thoughts. Nancy was certainly worth a stare; in spite of the fact that she was still at school, she was quite one of the young ladies of the Flats, and when occasion demanded could deport herself quite becoming the name. Her black, curly hair was tied up with a scarlet ribbon that matched her cheeks, her eyes were Irish blue, limpid and dancing, and she had a dimple in the centre of her saucy chin.

Seeing Callum so absorbed, Scotty slid softly up to him. "That's Nancy!" he whispered proudly.

"Is it?" said Callum, with an air of surprise. "Where?"

"Why, there beside Granny, where you're lookin'. Ain't she pretty?"

"Oh, I guess so." Callum showed an indifference that greatly disappointed his nephew. Probably, though, he considered, Callum would not think of admiring an Irish girl.

At that moment the girl raised her eyes and glanced in their direction.

She encountered Scotty's eager gaze, and returned it with a brilliant, laughing glance; then her eyes met Callum's and she instantly turned away with a coquettish toss of her head. Scotty felt she surely might have smiled at Callum, too. He glanced up at the young man again and was rather troubled. He was sure Callum must be very angry at either him or Nancy, for he had never seen his face get red like that unless he were in a rage.

But, meantime, Praying Donald had finished the interrupted psalm and Roarin' Sandy had started the tune. The elder men caught it up, then the women, and lastly the young men about the stove, and the song swelled out slow and solemn, the deep, full-chested notes rolling out into the winter night where the glittering stars and the solemn, silent forest seemed to give back in grand reverberations the words:

"He put a new song in my mouth Our G.o.d to magnify!"

In the hush that followed, Praying Donald read a chapter from the Holy Word, read it in tones that arrested the most careless listener, and even Scotty felt a little tingle go over him at the yearning words:

"As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O G.o.d. My soul thirsteth for G.o.d, for the living G.o.d."

And then they all knelt in prayer, old and young, serious and careless; all bowed before the G.o.d for whom their souls, whether they realised it or not, panted as the hart for the cooling streams.

The prayers were all the heartfelt repet.i.tion of the sentiment expressed in the psalm. These pioneers were children in a strange land, surrounded by new conditions, and in their wise simplicity went as children to a father for what they most needed. After Praying Donald came Big Malcolm, then Store Thompson, and Roarin' Sandy, and then the leader called upon Tom Caldwell. Tom Caldwell's big Irish heart was overflowing with good-will to his Scottish neighbours; and carried away by his emotions, he prayed long and loud and shouted hallelujahs in a manner that rather alarmed the company. Indeed, Store Thompson's wife, who was considered quite a genteel person in the community, declared afterwards that "it jist garred her ears tingle,"

and Store Thompson himself, though never given to censure anyone, admitted that though Tom certainly had a fine gift of prayer, he was, "jist a wee thing tumultuous-like."

The meeting had been very solemn and the youngest person there very well-behaved during the earlier prayers, but after Tom Caldwell came the host of the evening, and the young men began to grow restless. For Long Lauchie was never so long as when at his devotions. Indeed, for years it had been the scandal of the Oa that his sons were in the habit of slipping out during family worship to attend to the "ch.o.r.es" about the stable, returning to appear decorously upon their knees when their father arose.

At Callum Fiach's suggestion the "Lauchie boys" even arranged a compet.i.tion in which the five sons strove to see who could make the longest excursion during prayer-time. The palm was yielded to Hughie, the third son, who crossed the swamp on skis one evening, and saw Kirsty John chase the Weaver from her door with the porridge stick, arriving home, breathless but triumphant, just before the amen was p.r.o.nounced. No one quite believed Hughie's story, until it was ruefully corroborated by Jimmie himself; whereupon the limit was declared to be reached, and the boys turned their attention to new fields.

But on this first prayer-meeting night, spurred on by the enthusiasm of the company, Long Lauchie bade fair to give his sons ample opportunity to journey through the length and breadth of the township of Oro and return before he was finished. The pious old man had a fine poetic temperament, and to-night he soared beyond anything his family had ever heard. The pet.i.tion ramified and expanded to an alarming length, and still showed no signs of stopping. Even Mrs. Lauchie, whose chief pride was her husband's devotional fluency, was somewhat concerned.

There was a restless movement among the young men about the stove.

Scotty twisted and squirmed and tried in vain to be still. It was very wicked to open one's eyes during prayer, he knew. Roarin' Sandy's Johnny had told him that if he did he might see the Deil standing behind him. And since then Scotty had been divided between dread of the awful apparition and a natural desire to see what his Satanic Majesty looked like. He was ashamed of his restlessness, for Callum was kneeling beside him motionless. Callum would think him a baby if he moved. He peeped cautiously through his fingers at his uncle.

Callum was kneeling at the bench, absolutely still, indeed, but with his eyes wide open and staring straight at the black, curly head of Tom Caldwell's daughter.

Scotty felt that if it were not very wicked, he would like to straighten up like that and stare at somebody, too. It looked so big and manly. Mastering his fears, he turned cautiously in the direction of Betty, but Betty had slipped to the floor with her tousled yellow head on the bench, and was sound asleep. Scotty closed his eyes again, the droning voice of Long Lauchie floated farther and farther away, he felt himself going, too, somewhere, into immeasurable s.p.a.ce, until at last he dropped into the gulf of oblivion. He half woke to find Granny tying a m.u.f.fler round his neck. He made an ineffectual effort to stop her, for she was saying, "Eh, eh, Granny's poor, wee, sleepy lamb," and he dreaded lest Peter should hear her; only Peter, like all the other people, seemed an immeasurable distance away. Someone else was bending over him, too, and saying, "And you'll be sure to let him come, then?"

"But I'm afraid he would jist be a trouble to yer mother, Kirsty,"

Granny answered.

"Tuts, not a bit!" was the reply. "Mother'll jist be glad o' him, an'

the wee Isabel would be lonely. Ah'm glad she's comin', for mother's jist wearin' to see her again, an' Miss Herbert's sick, poor lady.".

"Oh, well, indeed he can go, Kirsty, an' I hope he will not be rough with the little lady."

"Not him." Scotty felt a strong, rough hand pa.s.s gently over his curls. "When she comes Ah'll send ye word by yon loon o' a weaver.

It'll give him somethin' to do, an' the buddie's jist fair in want for a job."

"Ah, Kirsty, Kirsty!" whispered Granny, "it's too hard ye'll be on poor Jimmie. Take my advice an' marry him, he'll be a good man to you, indeed! There's the sleigh. Come, Hamish, lad, take the lamb out, he will be jist dead asleep, whatever."

As Scotty pa.s.sed out like a sack of potatoes on Hamish's shoulder, the rush of clear, cold air partly revived him. He cuddled under the blanket close to Granny, and dimly heard the good-nights as each sleigh-load moved down the long lane, not gaily spoken as when the neighbours came in for an evening, but low and subdued, for all were under the spell of the season of prayer. He heard Granny say, "Where's Callum? Don't be leaving the lad," and a voice answered, "He's yonder helpin' Tom Caldwell to hitch," and then Callum sprang in, and the sleigh creaked slowly forward, and Scotty slid away once more down the dim road of dreamland.

VI

AN IGNOMINIOUS TASK

Into the dim woods full of the tombs Of the dead trees soft in their sepulchres, Where the pensive throats of the shy birds hidden Pipe to us strangely entering unbidden, And tenderly still in the tremulous glooms The trilliums scatter their white-winged stars.

--ABCHIBALD LAMPMAN.

Winter pa.s.sed, and then came the spring, with its fresh, warm winds coming up from Lake Simcoe and sweeping away the ice and snow in a mad, joyous rush of water.

Scotty went barefoot just as soon as there was enough bare ground to step upon. He seemed for a time to cast aside all restraint with his shoes and stockings, and when not in school lived a freebooter's life in the forest.

He and Bruce spent much time wandering, plundering and exploring from the edge of the corduroy road where the musk and marigolds and fleur-de-lis grew in glorious profusion all through the green and golden depths to where the River Oro slipped from its sweet enthralment of reeds and water lilies to go bounding away down the valley to Lake Simcoe. The whole place was a plantation of treasures and teemed with sounds of life: the blue-jay, the song-sparrow, the robin, the noisy, red-winged black-bird, the plaintive pee-wee, the far-off, clear-ringing whitethroat, the jolly woodp.e.c.k.e.r, the noisy squirrel, and the shy racc.o.o.n--Scotty knew them all intimately, learned their ways and lived their life.

He was given to much idle roaming through the swamp, on the way to and from school, too, and when he went to bring home the cows he remained longer than even Granny could excuse. For that simple task should have been performed in a very short time. He could trace the cattle through the woods with the sure instinct of a sleuth-hound, could distinguish Spotty's tracks from Cherry's, and might have found his own little heifer's in the midst of the public highway. But his skill did not help to make him any more expeditious, for he often forgot his errand and would lie full length upon the ground, gazing up into the restless, swishing, green sea above, and dreaming wonderful dreams. Callum declared he was a lazy little beggar and ought to be cowhided to make him move, though where one could be found to perform that necessary operation the MacDonald family were not prepared to say.

That he did not altogether develop into a little savage was entirely due to Granny's tender care. Nowhere was the influence of her beautiful character felt so strongly as by the little grandson. She, who could command her grown-up sons by her mere presence, and who was slowly but surely transforming Big Malcolm's wild nature, was quietly moulding the boy's character. Scotty early learned the great lessons of life, the lessons of truth and right, and was well grounded in the knowledge of the things that are eternal. He could read the Bible before he ever entered school, and could repeat the Shorter Catechism with a rapidity that sometimes alarmed Granny, as savouring of irreverence. He learned a verse of Scripture by heart every evening of his life, and the Sabbath was a grand review day.

Sunday was always a red-letter day in Scotty's life, for he generally had Granny to himself. Not that the others were away; for Big Malcolm, who generally ruled his household rather laxly, sternly forbade Sabbath visiting. But the boys wandered off to the barn or the woods after morning prayers, and Big Malcolm dozed, or smoked, or read his Bible.

And then Granny and her boy would climb the little hillock beside the house and sit under the Silver Maple. This was a fine position, for one could see Lake Oro, stretched out there blue and sparkling in its ring of forest, and far away to the south, a glittering string of diamonds and turquoise where Lake Simcoe lay smiling in the sun, and now and then, where a clearing opened the view, the blue flash of the river. And there, with the soft rustle of the green and silver canopy above, and around the scent of the clover and the ba.s.swood blossoms, Scotty lay with his head in Granny's lap and heard wonderful stories of One who sat on a hill and spoke to the mult.i.tude as never man yet spake. And never afterwards, though he sometimes wandered from Granny's teachings, did those Sabbath days lose their hold upon his life.