CHAPTER XVI. A MORNING AT THE MANSE.
I have a mind to take my reader next to the manse, where my Cousin James lives in peace, and, I might add, plenty; for although his fifty pounds a year would be considered by some folk a mere trifle, it suffices for his wants and leaves something forbye to give to the poor. No suppliant for charity goes from his door without a few pence to gladden his heart; and if the need be great, the pence are sometimes held back and shillings take their place. To be sure, there are many in the parish who bring him gifts several times a year. We ourselves often carry our cousin James such things as we can spare.
I remember in particular one lovely summer morning, when Walter and I were small, my mother sent us to the manse with a little gift. Walter carried a leg of mutton and I a bit of cheese and a bottle of cream. We made a merry time of it, for neither of us minded our burdens, and we laughed and chatted all the way. I doubt if the plover that was wading in the stream was happier or more care-free than were we. Walter had a bonnie face, though it was a bit sun-browned; but his dark hair set it off finely. I remember he said to me, when we had almost reached the manse, "You must quiet down now, Christie, for you have kept your mouth stretched frae ear to ear the hail morn."
"I could say as much for yourself," I replied. Whereupon he laughed again, showing two rows of fine teeth.
"Well," said he, "let us laugh while we may. We will have to sober down soon enough; leastways that seems to be the way it goes with poor folk. It is work, work, frae year's end to year's end."
"What is that you are saying, my lad?" asked the minister, coming from behind the hedgerow and starting up the path with us.
"I was but saying that poor folk maun work and aye keep at it," replied Walter, the color rising to his cheeks.
"And do you not like work, my wee man?" asked he, smiling.
"Ay, I like it well enough; but sometimes it seems a bit hard to have all work and no play. I suppose it maun be right or it wouldna be so ordered," said Walter, for he had been well taught that all the arrangements of Providence are wise and good.
"Yes, Walter, it must be right; and you must not be discouraged because you have been put into the harness younger than most lads. You have the satisfaction of knowing that you are helpful, and there is a comfort in that. It is noble to labor; it is ignoble to be idle."
He had now reached his own door, and we followed him in.
"Here is a bit of meat mother sent," said Walter. "And here is a small cheese and some cream," said I.
"Thank you, my dears. Your mother is very kind. I am fond of Cousin Agnes' cheese."
Stepping to the door of the pleasant sitting-room, he spoke to his wife: "Ellen, here is company for you."
She came to greet us, and asked us to go with her. But when we were within the room that to us seemed so grand we felt a little embarrassed.
"If I had kenned they would bring us into this bonnie room," said Walter in an undertone, "I would have put on my Sunday clothes."
"And I too," I said, "would have put on my print gown and a ribbon on my braids."
As we finished speaking the minister and his wife returned with Jeannie, their little lame daughter. Jeannie was almost as old as I was, being ten, while I was eleven; but she was pale and sickly-looking. Her arms and hands were very thin. I looked at my own plump, brown hands; the contrast was great. I believe Jeannie's mother observed the contrast too, for she looked from Jeannie to me, and I heard her sigh. I went to Jeannie and talked to her. The mother's eyes rested on us all the time, as if her little daughter was too frail and too precious to be lost from view a single moment. Cousin Ellen was a lovely lady, just in the prime of life; but her husband was well on in years. She was his second wife and the mother of two children. Alec, her son, then fifteen years old, was a pleasant lad, and my brothers were very fond of him. Walter went into the garden to find him, and both soon came in. Alec brought a basket of fine cherries. I ate too many of them to be genteel, I fear; but we had none at home, and it was not easy to restrain my childish appetite.
The minister took us into his study. I was astonished to see so many books. I did not know at that time that one person ever possessed so many. I looked at them a long time, for even then I liked books. I remember that I thought there could be no better man than our minister, and no place bonnier than the manse.
Walter and I were thinking of going home when Alan, the son of the first wife, drove up to the door with his wife and child.
"We maun go home now," said Walter; but I had caught sight of the wee one, and he could not persuade me to go.
I soon managed to get the bairn in my arms, and, forgetting myself, I was talking to it as I had heard others talking to infants. When I looked up Alan was laughing at me.
"What an old-fashioned child you are, Christie," said he.
"Everybody tells me so," said I, slightly displeased.
"I like you all the better for your quaint ways," said he, still smiling.
Walter was becoming very uneasy, I could see that; so I carried the bairn to Alan, for I did not feel acquainted with his wife, and we started for home.
"Now, my lass," said Walter, when we had but gotten out of hearing of the manse, "I should not wonder if the taws would be taken down. The hail morn is gone, and not a weed pulled frae the garden, nor anything else done."
I was a little uneasy, and was pondering in my mind what I should say in self-defence and still adhere to the truth, for I knew well it was my fault that we had stayed away the last hour or more. We returned less merry than we went, I can assure you. Finally I remembered that the minister had said many good things to us, and asked us questions from the Bible, and that we had answered very well, the minister had said so. "Children, I am glad to know that you have been so well taught," he said. "Although your parents have so many things to divide their attention and distract their thoughts, they have not failed to instruct you out of the Book that maketh wise unto salvation."
I thought if mother was too hard on me I would turn this to good account, for she aye liked to have us get religious instruction. When we had nearly reached home I began to lag behind, feeling in no hurry to hear what would be said to me. Walter hastened to the garden, took up the hoe, and began to work very fast. Just then mother came to the door.
"So, you are come at last! What has kept you the hail morn?"
"Nothing in particular," I replied, quickening my steps, "only the minister's folk were so kind, and it was such a bonnie place that I liked well to stay."
I looked into her face as I spoke the whole truth, but I feared so poor an excuse might cause me to be punished. To my surprise she answered without sternness, and with a perceptible touch of tenderness,
"I am glad ye have had a pleasant morning, puir wee lass. I was vexed with you for staying away, for I was pressed with work; but I will no chide you; it is little enough pleasure that you have."
"Is anything amiss?" I asked, touched by her unusual manner.
"Nae, I was but thinking how muckle better chance some children have than others. It is wrong, I make nae doubt, to feel so, but whiles I canna help it. It grieves me sairly that I canna let ye gang to your cousin John's school, as ye should; but I canna spare ye."
"I can read very well now, mother," said I, "and I can repeat a score of the Psalms and answer many of the Bible questions. Walter and I did it the morn. The minister took us into his study and talked with us seriously. He asked us many questions, and we answered right well, for he said so. But Walter said it was Samson who slew Goliath. I shook my head. 'Who was it, Christie?' asked the minister. 'David,' I replied. 'You are right,' said he. 'It is no wonder that Walter thought Samson maun hae killed the great giant,' said I, feeling sorry for Walter. The minister smiled and went on with his questions. Alas! I have to tell that my own time came next; for when he asked me who was taken up in a chariot of fire, I answered, 'Ezekiel.' Walter was even with me then, for he quickly answered, 'Elijah.' I felt ashamed. But mother," said I, "did not the minister read Sunday morning about Ezekiel and wheels and fire?"
"Yes, Christie," said she; "you will find that in the tenth chapter of Ezekiel; but it doesna say he went up in a chariot of fire. I hope you made no more mistakes."
"No more after that, and many questions he asked us," I replied.
"Ye hae done very well," said she, heaving a sigh of relief; "some other day ye may go again."
As soon as I had done my work in the house I hurried out to weed the garden. I told Walter that the taws was likely to hang idle on the peg, and that mother was o'er good. I did not know why she seemed to pity us, for she had always told us that work was good for every one; but I now know that she was sorry there was not a little more pleasure and innocent childish enjoyment in our young lives, for she well knew that the years would bring still more care and burdens still more heavy.