Cleg Kelly, Arab of the City 21
"O lassie, lassie, ye juist mak' me fair shamed," cried Mistress
Douglas. "Alick, ye muckle bullock; what for are ye standin' there like
a cuif? Gang ower to Mistress Fraser's and ask the lend o' her cradle.
Thae bairns are gaun to bide——"
"But, wife, hae ye considered?" Alick began.
"Considered, my fit, did ye no hear me? Dinna stand hingin' there,
balancin' on your soles like a show elephant lookin' aboot for
cookies—gang, will ye!"
The little wife stamped her foot and made a threatening demonstration.
Whereupon Muckle Alick betook himself over the way to Mistress
Fraser's, and he never smiled till he got past the gate of the front
garden, in which Mirren kept her old-fashioned flowers.
"I thocht that's what it wad come to," said Alick to himself, "when
she saw the bairns. I wonder if she means to keep haud o' them a'
thegither? She's been wearing her heart on the flooers a lang while,
puir lassie. It wad be a farce if three bairns cam' hame at once to
Sandyknowes after sae lang withoot ony, twa o' them walkin' cantily on
their ain feet!"
Thus Alick mused, laughing a little to himself as he went over to
borrow Mistress Fraser's cradle. He had an idea.
"There'll be some amusement at ony rate," he said, "but I maunna be
ower keen. Na, and I maun haud back an' make difficulties. And then the
wife will tak' the ither side and be juist daft to get her ain way and
keep them."
Alick was well aware of the value of a certain amount of opposition,
judiciously distributed.
He arrived before long at the cottage of Mistress Fraser. It was set
like his own in the midst of a garden. But instead of being bosomed in
flowers, with beeskeps scattered about, the garden was wholly taken up
with potatoes, cabbage, and curly greens. It was a strictly utilitarian
garden. As soon as Muckle Alick hove in sight, turning up off the main
road, a covey of children broke from the door of the house and ran
tumultuously towards him. They tripped one another up. They pulled each
other back by the hair, or caught those in front by the heels or the
coat-tails. It was a clean-limbed, coltish lass of thirteen who gained
the race and sprang first into the arms of Muckle Alick. Then two
smaller boys gripped each a mighty leg, while a whole horde of smaller
banditti swarmed up Alick's rearward works and took his broad back by
storm. When he got to the potato garden he looked more like the show
elephant his wife had called him than ever. For he was fairly loaded
with children "all along the rigging," as Mistress Fraser said.
She was a buxom, rosy-cheeked woman, gifted upon occasion with an
astonishing plainness of speech.
"Guidnicht to ye, Alick," she said, "thae bairns maks as free wi' ye as
if they were a' your ain?"
Alick disentangled the hands of one of the rearward harpies from his
beard and mouth. Whereupon the offended rascal was not to be appeased.
He slid down, caught the giant about the knee, and began to kick an
outlying shin with all his might.
"Ye should ken best whether they are or no," said Alick, "there's
plenty o' them at ony gait!"
"An' what wind has blawn ye awa' frae Sandyknowes this nicht? It takes
naething less than an earthquake to shake ye awa' frae Mirren. Ye hae
fair forgotten that there's ither folk in the warl."
"I was wanting the lend o' your cradle, guidwife," said Alick, with
affected shamefacedness, well aware of the astonishment he would
occasion by the simple request.
Mistress Fraser had been stooping over a basin in which she was mixing
meal and other ingredients, to form the white puddings for which she
was famous. She stood up suddenly erect, like a bow straightening
itself. Then she looked sternly at Alick.
"Ye are a nice cunning wratch to be an elder—you and Mirren Terregles
baith—and at your time o' life. An' hoo is she?"
"Ow, as weel as could hae been expectit," said Muckle Alick, with just
the proper amount of hypocritical resignation demanded by custom on
these occasions. Mistress Fraser, whose mind ran naturally on the lines
along which Muckle Alick had directed it, was completely taken in.
"An' what has Mirren gotten?—a lassie, I'll wager," said the excited
mother of eleven, dusting her hands of the crumblings of the pudding
suet, and then beginning breathlessly to smooth her hair and take off
her baking apron. So excited was she that she could not find the loop.
"Aye," said Alick, quietly, "there's a lassie!"
"I juist kenned it," said Mistress Fraser, drawing up wisdom from the
mysterious wells of her experience; "muckle men and wee wives aye start
aff wi' a lassie—contrarywise they begin wi' a laddie. Noo me and my
man——"
What terrible revelation of domestic experience would inevitably have
followed, remains unfortunately unknown. For the words which at that
moment Muckle Alick delicately let drop, as the chemist drops a rare
essence into two ounces of distilled water, brought Mistress Fraser
to a dead stop in the fulness of her career after the most intimate
domestic reminiscences.
"But there's a laddie come too!" said Muckle Alick, and looked
becomingly at the ground.
Mistress Fraser held up her hands.
"Of a' the deceitfu', hidin', unneighbourly craiturs," said Mistress
Fraser, "Mirren Terregles is the warst—an' me to hae drank my tea wi'
her only last week. I'll wager if I live to hae fifty bairns——"
"The Lord forbid," said her husband, unexpectedly, from the doorway.
"We hae plenty as it is——"
"And wha's faut's that?" cried his wife over her shoulder. "Oh the
deceitfu' randy——"
"In fact," said Muckle Alick, dropping another word in, "there's twa
laddies—_and_ a lassie!"
Mistress Fraser sat down quite suddenly.
"Gie me a drink frae the water can, Tam!" she said; "haste ye fast,
Alick's news has gi'en me a turn. Twa laddies and a lassie—I declare
it's a Queen's bounty! Preserve me, it's no a cradle ye want, man,
but a mill happer! A time or twa like this, and ye'll hae to plant
taties in the front yaird—ye will hae to pay soundly for your ploy at
this rate, my man. Three at a whup disna gang wi' cancy-lairies in the
cabbage plots, my lad."
"It's a maist notoriously curious thing," began Tam Fraser,
unexpectedly, "that I saw Mirren carryin' twa cans o' water this very
mornin'——"
Muckle Alick gave him a warning look, which made him catch his next
unspoken sentence as a wicket-keeper holds the ball before the field
has seen it leave the bat.
"But—but she didna look weel——" added Tam.
"I wad think no, juist," cried Mistress Fraser, who in an inner room
was busy putting a selection of small white things into a covered
reticule basket. "An puir Mirren, she'll no be ready for the like. Wha
could be prepared for a hale nation like this—I'll tak' her what I hae.
O, the deceitfu' besom—I declare it wad tak' a little to gar me never
speak to her again."
"Dinna do that!" said the hypocritical giant; "think on her
condeetion——"
"Condeetion, condeetion, quo' he—I wonder ye are no black ashamed,
Alick Douglas. And nane o' the twa o' ye ever to say a word to me,
that's your nearest neebour——"
"I gie ye my word," said Muckle Alick, "I kenned nocht aboot it till an
hour or twa afore the bairns cam' hame!"
Mistress Fraser turned fiercely upon him.
"Weel, for a' the leers in this pairish—and there are some rousers—ye
beat them clean, Alick Douglas—and you an elder amang the Cameronian
kirk! Hoo daur ye face your Maker, to say nocht o' the kirk folk as ye
stand at the plate on Sabbaths, wi' siccan lees in your mouth?
"Come awa, man," she cried from the door in her haste, "I hae twa
bagfu's o' things here. Tam, gang ower by to the Folds and up to
Cowdenslack and borrow their twa cradles. They'll no be needing them
for a month or twa—I ken that brawly—na, they are straight-forrit
women, and never spring the like o' this on puir folk to set them a' in
a flutter!"
"I think a single cradle wad do. It was a' that Mirren asked for," said
Alick demurely; "but please yoursel', Mistress Fraser, it is you that
kens."
"Yin," cried Mistress Fraser, "the man's gane gyte. Gin ye wull bring
a family into the warld by squads o' regiments, ye maun e'en tak' the
consequences. Lod, Lod, three cradles a' rockin' at the same time in
yae hoose, it will be like a smiddy—or a watchmaker's shop! It'll be
fine exerceese for ye, Alick, my man, when ye come hame at nichts—nae
mair planting o' nasty-hurcheons and pollyanthies. But every foot on
a cradle rocker, and the lassie's yin to pu' wi' a string. An' serve
ya baith richt. O, the deceitfu' madam; wait till I get ower to the
Sandyknowes!"
And Alick had to take his longest strides to keep pace with the anxious
mother of eleven—to whom he had told no lie, though, as he afterwards
said, he "had maybes keeped his thumb on some blauds o' the truth."
"It shows," said Alick, "what a differ there is atween the truth and
the hale truth—specially when there's a reason annexed in the shape of
a woman's imagination, that naturally rins on sic like things."
But as they neared Sandyknowes it is not to be doubted that Alick grew
a little anxious. His position would not be exactly a pleasant one, if,
for instance, Mirren should suddenly come out of their little byre
with a full luggie of milk. And it was about milking time.
"There doesna appear to be muckle steer aboot the place, for siccan an
awfu' thing to hae happened so lately!" said Mistress Fraser.
"Na," said the arch-deceiver Alick, making a last effort, "we are
tryin' to keep a' thing as quaite as possible."
"And faith, I dinna wonder. Gin the wives nooadays had ony spunk in
them ava', ye wad be mobbed and ridden on the stang, my man!" Then her
grievance against Mirren came again upon Mistress Fraser with renewed
force, "O, the randy, the besom," she cried; "wait till I get her!"
By this time they were nearing the door of Sandyknowes.
"I dinna think I'll come ben wi' ye the noo. I'll gang ower by the barn
instead. There's some things to look to there, I misdoubt," said Alick.
Just then they heard Mirren's voice raised in a merry laugh. It was
really at the tale of Boy Hugh and Miss Briggs, which Vara was telling
her.
But the sound brought a scared look to the face of Mistress Fraser.
"She's lauchin', I declare!" she cried; "that's an awesome bad sign.
Guid kens hoo mony there may be by this time——"
And she fairly lifted her voluminous petticoats, and, with her bundles
under her arm, ran helter-skelter for the door of Sandyknowes, more
like a halfling lassie than a douce mother of eleven bairns.
Muckle Alick saw her fairly in at the kitchen door.
"I think I'll gang ower by to the barn," he said.
But he had not got more than half-way there when both leaves of
the kitchen door sprang open, and out flew Mistress Fraser with the
large wooden pot-stick or spurtle in her hand. Alick had admired her
performance as she ran towards the house. But it was nothing to the
speed with which she now bore down upon him.
"It was like the boat train coming doon by the Stroan, ten minutes
ahint time, an' a director on board!" he said afterwards.
At the time Muckle Alick had too many things to think about, to say
anything whatever. He ran towards the barn as fast as he could for
the choking laughter which convulsed him. And behind him sped the
avenger with the uplifted porridge spurtle, crying, "O ye muckle leein'
deevil—ye blackguaird—ye cunnin' hound, let me catch ye——"
And by the cheek of the barn door catch him Mistress Fraser did. And
then, immediately after, it was Muckle Alick who received the reward of
iniquity. But Mirren stood in the doorway with little Gavin in her arms
and Vara and Boy Hugh at either side, and laughed till the tears ran
down her cheeks in twin parallel rills.
"Gie him his paiks, and soundly, Mistress Fraser; pink him weel. Hit
him on the knuckles or on the elbows. Ye micht as weel hit Ben Gairn as
try to hurt him by hitting him on the head!"
Alick was speechless with laughter, but Mistress Fraser exclaimed with
each resounding stroke, "Twa laddies and a lassie! O ye vermin!—And me
has sent to the Folds and the Cowdenslacks for twa cradles to mak' up
the three. Ye hae made a bonny fule o' me. I'll never hear the last o'
it till my dying day in this countryside. But, at ony rate, I take my
piper's pay in ha'pence out o' your skin, my man Alick!"
ADVENTURE XLII.
MUCKLE ALICK CONSIDERS.
"Noo that the collyshangie's dune," quoth Mirren Douglas, "ye micht gie
us a word o' advice what we should do wi' the bairns. But come oot by.
They are a' to their beds doon the hoose. And we can be takin' a look
at the blossoms as we gang."
"We are to plant cabbage here next year, Mistress Fraser says!" cried
Muckle Alick.
"Havers!" said his wife. But Mistress Fraser gave Alick a look which
said as plain as print, "Have you not had enough?"
"Heard ye what the name o' the puir wandering things might be?" asked
Mistress Fraser.
"Aye," said Mirren, briskly, "I hae heard a' aboot it. Their name is
Kavannah. Their faither gaed awa' to Liverpool a whilie since to seek
wark. And the bairns has left their mither in Edinburgh to seek their
faither. And I judge their mither is a gye ill yin."
"Did she tell ye that?" asked Muckle Alick, quickly.
"Na, but I jalloused it!"[5] said his wife.
"And hoo in the world could ye jallouse sic a thing as that?" said he.
"Just the way ye jallouse that the express is comin' when ye hear the
whistle, and the signal draps to 'clear,' ye muckle nowt!" said his
wife, taking what is known as a personal example.
"The lassie didna tell me yae single word, but the boy showed me an
_arr_-mark on his temple. 'The awfu' woman did that!' says he.
"'And wha's the awfu' woman, my bonny man?' says I."
"The lassie tried to turn him, but he oot wi' it. 'It's just my
mither!' says he. And if ye didna caa that a gye near signal, I ken na
what is. It's as plain as findin' bits o' a dog collar in the sausage
or a burn troot in the milk!"
But her husband did not laugh, as he usually did at her sayings. His
own humour was not of that kind, but slow, ponderous, and deliberate.
"What are ye standin' there gapin' at?" demanded his wife.
Alick held up his hand. His wife knew that this was a signal that he
wished to be left to think undisturbed a little longer. So she hurried
Mistress Fraser along to look at what she called her "nasty-hurcheons."
Sandy's mental machinery, like his bodily, was slow to set in motion,
but it worked with great momentum when once it was set a-going.
Muckle Alick was putting two and two together.
"I ken a' aboot it," he said at length, when the process was complete.
"We will need to be awesome careful. Thae bairns' faither never got
to Liverpool; consequently it's little use them gaun there to seek
him. He's either in his grave or the Edinburgh Infirmary. D'ye mind
yon tramp man that gat the hurt in his head last spring, by hiding and
sleepin' in the cattle waggons when they were shuntin'? His name was
James Kavannah. I'se warrant he was the bairns' faither!"
Mirren Douglas gave Muckle Alick a bit clap on the shoulder.
"Whiles ye are nane so stupid, man," she said, "I believe ye are richt."
"And he was on his road to Liverpool, too," added Alick, "for when he
was oot o' his mind he cried on aboot that a' the time. And aye the
owerword o' his sang was, 'She'll no get me in Liverpool!'"
His wife looked at Alick. And Muckle Alick looked at Mirren.
"We'll keep them awhile, onyway, till they can get a better hame. The
lassie will soon be braw and handy," said Mirren.
"I'm thinkin'," said Alick, "that the flower-beds will hae to come up
after a', and we'll plant taties if the porridge pot shows signs o'
wearin' empty."
It was thus that our three wanderers found a place of lodgment in the
wilderness in the kindly house of Sandyknowes.
"There's my sister Margaret up at Loch Spellanderie," said Mistress
Fraser; "she was tellin' me on Monday that she was wantin' a lass.
She's no very easy to leeve wi', I ken. But she will gie a guid wage,
and the lass would get an insicht into country wark there. It micht be
worth while thinkin' aboot."
"It is kind o' ye to think o't," said Mirren, doubtfully.
"O," replied Mistress Fraser, "I'm nane so sure o' that. As I tell ye,
oor Meg is nane o' the easiest to serve. But, as the guid Buik says,
it's a good and siccar lesson for the young to bear the yoke in their
youth."
"An' I'm sure thae puir bairns hae had their share o't," said Muckle
Alick.
"I suppose," said Mistress Fraser, as she prepared to take her leave,
"that ye canna keep your thumb on the joke aboot the twa laddies and
a lassie. Na, it's no to be expected o' you, Mirren. It's ower guid
a tale to tell, specially on me, that aye prided mysel' on letting
naebody draw my leg. But ye did me to richts this time, ye great
stirk—to bring me fleein' ower here wi' my coaties kilted as if I had
the back-door trot, a' to see three newly-come-hame bairns, and the
auldest o' them near woman muckle. And the loon that gaed me the cheat
an elder o' the kirk! Sorrow till ye, Alick, but I could find it in my
heart to clour your lugs even yet."
"Ye hae my richt guidwull," said Mirren, encouragingly.
But Muckle Alick only laughed. Then Tam Fraser came in seeking his wife.
"I hae been hearin' a' aboot your daft ploy, rinnin' in front o' the
engine and gettin' dunted oot o' the road," said he. "Some folk was
threepin' that it was awesome brave o' ye, but I think it was juist a
daft, rackless triflin' wi' Providence. That's my thocht on't."
"What was that? I hae heard tell o' it for the first time," said
Mirren. "But that's nae new thing in this hoose. Alick's married wife
is aye the last to hear o' his daft-like doin's."
"O, nocht very special this time," said Tam Fraser. "He only threw a
hundred and six Irish drovers oot o' a third story window ower the
engine o' the Port express, but there's nae mair than ten o' them dead.
And then he louped in front on an engine gaun at full speed and to draw
some bairns frae below the wheels," said Tam Fraser, giving the local
version, corrected to date.
"Is this true?" said his wife severely, fixing her eyes upon Alick with
a curious __EXPRESSION__ in them.
"There's juist aboot as muckle truth in it as there is in maist
Netherby stories for common, after they hae gotten ten minutes' start,"
said Muckle Alick.
"What is your version o't?" said his wife, never taking her eyes off
her husband.
"O, it was naething to tell aboot," said Muckle Alick. "There was some
drovers in a carriage where they had nae business, and they wadna come
oot, till I gaed in to them—and then they cam' oot! And the wee laddie
an' the bairn were comin' alang the line afore the engine. And Geordie
couldna stop. So I gied them a bit yirk oot and gat a dunch in the back
wi' the buffer."
Mirren took her husband by the rough velveteen coat-sleeve.
"My man!" she said, rubbing her cheek against it. "But what for did ye
no tell me?"
"I was gaun to tell ye the morn's mornin'," said Alick. "There was
nae harm dune, ye see, but yin o' my gallus buttons riven off an'
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