CHAPTER V
SUNNA AND THORA
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Love, the old, old troubler of the world. Love has reasons, of which reason knows nothing. Alas, how easily things go wrong! A sigh too much, or a kiss too long, And there follows a mist and a weeping rain And life is never the same again. |
No sooner was Mrs. Brodie’s intention known, than all her friends were eager to help her. There was truly but little time between Monday morning and Wednesday night; but many hands make light work, and old and young offered their services in arranging for what it pleased all to consider as a kind of national thanksgiving.
The unanimity of this kindness gave Rahal a slight attack of a certain form of jealousy, to which she had been subject for many years, and she asked her husband, as she had done often before, “Why is it, Coll, that every woman in the 99 town is eager to help and encourage Barbara if she only speaks of having a dance or dinner; but if I, thy wife, am the giver of pleasure, I am left to do all without help or any show of interest. It troubles me, Coll.”
And Coll answered as he always did answer––“It is thy superiority, Rahal. Is there any woman we know, who would presume to give thee advice or counsel? And it is well understood by all of them that thou cannot thole an obligation. Thou, and thy daughter, and thy servants are sufficient for all thy social plans; and why should thou be bothered with a lot of old and young women? Thy sister Brodie loves a crowd about her, and she says ‘thank thee’ to all and sundry, as easily as she takes a drink of water. It chokes thee to say ‘thanks’ to any one.”
So Rahal was satisfied, and went with the rest to help Mistress Brodie prepare for her dance. There were women in the kitchen making pies and custards and jellies, and women in her parlours cleaning and decorating them, and women in the great hall taking up carpets because it was a favourite place for reels, and women washing China and trimming lamps. Thora was doing the shopping, Ian was carrying the invitations; and every 100 one who had been favoured with one had not only said “Yes,” but had also asked if there was anything they could loan, or do, to help the impromptu festival. Thus, Mrs. Harold Baikie sent her best service of China, and the Faes sent several extra large lamps, and the bride of Luke Serge loaned her whole supply of glassware, and Rahal took over her stock of table silver; and Mistress Brodie received every loan––useful or not––with the utmost delight and satisfaction.
On Wednesday afternoon, however, she was faced by a condition she did not know how to manage. Ian came to her in a hurry, saying, “My friend, McLeod, is longing for an invitation from you, and he has asked me to request one. Surely you will send him the favour! Yes, I know you will.”
“You are knowing too much, Ian. What can I do? You know well, laddie, he is not popular with the best set here.”
“I would not mind the ‘best set’ if I were you. What makes them ‘the best’? Just their own opinion of themselves. McLeod is of gentle birth, he is handsome and good-hearted, you will like him as soon as you speak to him. There is another ‘best set’ beside the one Adam Vedder 101 leads; I would like some one to take down that old man’s conceit of himself––there is nothing wrong with McLeod! Yes, he is Highland Scotch–––”