The walk to the toun, she said, was gude for the childer. If they were too tired to learn after it, it showed that learning was beyond their capabilities, and that they would be better making themsel’s usefu’ at hame. And what were women with large families to do without their big lads to bring water to wash wi’, and their half-grown lasses to tak’ care o’ the babies, and help wi’ the cooking and cleaning?
“But, Margot,” said Ruleson, “think o’ the outcome for the childer——Think o’——”
“Ye dinna require to tell me the outcome. As soon as the childer get what they ca’ an education, they hurry awa’ to some big city, or foreign country, and that’s the end o’ them. Settle a school here, and I’ll tell you the plain result—in a few years we’ll hae neither lads nor boats, and the lasses now growing up will hae to go to Largo, or to some unkent place for husbands. Gie our lads books, and you’ll ne’er get them into the boats. That’s a fact! I’m tellin’ you!”
Between Margot and Christine the argument continued all afternoon, but Ruleson went to the foot of the hill, and looked at the land proposed for the site of the future school. He was glad that it was his land, and he was so much of a natural poet that he could see the white building, and the boys and girls trooping in and out of its wide doors. And 104 the vision of the children playing together there was so clear to his imagination, that he carefully stepped off the acres he supposed would give them sufficient room for their games; and then shutting his eyes that he might see better, he decided that it was too small, and so stepped off another acre.
“I’ll ne’er scrimp the childer, God bless them!” he thought, “for it will be a happy day to James Ruleson, when he sees them runnin’ to these acres wi’ books and balls in their hands.”
Then he went home, and Margot said something about his Sunday claes, but James did not heed her. He put on a clean shirt, and a suit of blue flannel. His shirt was open at the throat, his feet were in boots that reached nearly to his knees. But he had a grandly satisfied look, and the beautiful courtesy of men who as a rule think only good of their neighbors, and do only good to them.
Margot, like Christine, was in her fisher-costume, with little accentuations in Christine’s case; but Margot was the very mate for the splendid man she called “her man.” Scotch, from head to feet, douce and domestic, yet cleverer than James, though obedient to him—a good woman, fit for the work of this world, and not forgetful concerning a better one.
Keeping in mind the Domine’s directions about a cup of tea, Christine laid the table with their best linen and china, and though no difference was made in the food provided, Christine saw that it was well 105 cooked. After all, it was quite an event for James Ruleson, and in the outcome of it he expected to realize one of the greatest pleasures that could come to him.
About five o’clock the Domine and Ballister arrived. They entered a room full of the feeling of home. It was clean, and white as a snow drift, and there was a bright fire blazing on the hearth. The covered table with its knives and forks and spoons, and its gilt rimmed teacups, was in itself a symbol of hospitality. The Domine looked at it, and then said, “Margot, you are baking sea trout. I told you never to do that again, when I was coming, unless you intended asking me to help in the eating of it.”
“Today, they were cooked special for you, Sir, and I hope you will hae the good will to pleasure me in the eating o’ them.”