THE BUSY BEE.
Bell’s dress varied with her work. In the morning she “sorted” the live stock, clad in what an artist would have called a grotesque or picturesque costume, according to the season. In winter her upper garment was an old overcoat of Mr. Barrie’s—a “Spencer;” in summer it was a loose-fitting jacket of striped cotton, lilac and white; her linsey-woolsey petticoat was of the right length for such work, and all were shaken or brushed or beaten daily. She put on her cotton “morning wrapper,” of blue with small white spots, just before she “set” the breakfast, and got “redd up” for the day in time to serve up the dinner. While she had her set times for her regular work, and “turned her hand” smartly to anything more pressing, she observed no “Factory Act” restrictions as to her hours of labour. Very early in the morning the clank of Bell’s “pattens”[1] was heard as she attended to her home farm, and till far on in the evening she was working away anxiously and cheerfully. Her rest was a change of work on week-days. On the Sabbath afternoon she took what seemed likest a rest, viz. a walk round the whole premises, leisurely, observant, inquisitive, noticing everything, and mentally noting a good deal for next week’s attention; varied by an occasional “saunter” into the gardens of the neighbours for purposes of observation, comparison, insight, or exchange.
[1] Pattens were a primitive form of what are now known as overshoes, although “undershoe” defines the patten more correctly. The upper part was made of wood, like the frame of an ice-skate, but broader,—not unlike the frame of an oval horse-brush; and it was put on by pushing the foot firmly into overstraps made of leather or “girth cloth,” in the same way as a horse-brush is fixed on a groom’s hand. The under part was an oval-shaped ring of thin iron, measuring about six inches long, four inches broad, and one inch deep. There being no fastening at the back, the heel of the wearer’s shoe made a “slip-shod” noise on the wooden sole, which, added to the clanking of the iron soles, especially on any pavement or causeway, produced a double-beat “clatterin’ clatter.” To the inexperienced they were as difficult to walk with as skates are; they kept the foot about two inches from the ground, and were taken off before entering the house by merely withdrawing the foot. They not only kept the feet dry, but a “clean hoose.”
Her respect for Mr. and Mrs. Barrie was profound: they were the handsomest couple in the parish, and many parishes might have been gone over before a more comely, gentle, ladylike, person than Mrs. Barrie could be met with. Bell said, “They were, if that was possible, better than they were bonnie;” and when Mrs. Barrie told Bell, as she often did, to rest and take things more leisurely, Bell would say, “I like to work, mem, I like it; I canna be idle.” Mrs. Barrie’s remonstrances were firmer on extra occasions, such as a “heavy washing,” but Bell’s answer was, “It was naething, naething at a’; and didna we get a grand day for drying the claes?”—or at the “Spring cleanin’,” when her answer was, “It’s best to get all the confusion past and by wi’t. It was a nice thing a fresh, clean hoose;—’deed, mem, it astonishes me to see hoo much cleanin’ every place needs, although it’s no very bad like before you begin.”
I may be dwelling too long on Bell, and it is not at all unlikely that she may become the heroine of my story, or rather the central figure round which the “bits” are grouped. If so, I could not wish a better, although Bell herself had no idea that she was such a good servant, or that she did more than her bare duty; she oftener felt she had not done as well as she wished. She was far too sensible and busy a woman to think much about herself; and should she read this, she would be the first to say “she wished she had done better,—he hasna tell’d my fau’ts.” Worthy, kindly, honest Bell!
“GIVEN TO HOSPITALITY.”
Mrs. Barrie’s housekeeping was the admiration, to many it was the miracle, of the parish and district. She was a good manager, and with such a helpmate as Bell, she made her income do wonders. To the poor, the manse was always open for judicious help; the hospitality of the dining-room and parlour was substantial and becoming. This was all the more astonishing from the fact that Mrs. Barrie was “such a delightful creature,” “such a charming person,” “quite a lady,” “a model minister’s wife,” “so accomplished,” “so amiable,” “so frank,” “so nice,” “so attractive” (these are actual epithets used by her friends), that the number of visitors, many of whom were easily persuaded to become guests, was larger than was desirable, and the consequent calls on the larder and pantry were heavy. Indeed, this was a subject of frequent remark among those who enjoyed the hospitality of the manse, all wondering how ever she could manage, and many “beseeching” Mrs. Barrie not to trouble herself about them, as they only wished a quiet chat, although the length of many of their visits made them more like visitations; Mrs. A. and Mrs. B. suggesting that Mrs. C. and Mrs. D. might be more considerate, whilst Mrs. C. and Mrs. D. were surprised at the audacious manner in which Mrs. A. and Mrs. B. thrust themselves on Mr. and Mrs. Barrie. It was really difficult to withstand the attractions of the manse, and Mr. and Mrs. Barrie, more particularly Mrs. Barrie, was made a social martyr because she was so good, and kind, and true.
It never occurred to Mrs. Barrie that her good nature and good housekeeping were inconsiderately drawn upon by many who should have known better. She liked to see, and to contribute to, the enjoyment of others, preferred being active to being passive in this matter, and was “given to hospitality” from the genuine sweetness of her nature; and while the sigh of weariness often escaped her lips at the close of some of the nice “sociables,” which had been prolonged so as to interfere with domestic and other duties, she never murmured; although she and Bell had often to encroach on the hours of rest or sleep in order to keep everything forward, and as they would like it.
Mr. Barrie’s broadcloth was invariably fresh-looking, and his linen faultless. Mrs. Barrie was at all times becomingly dressed, and in the afternoons quite “the lady, aye sae genty.” The boys and girls were comfortably and neatly clad every day, specially so on Sabbath days, and theirs was a happy home.
Before I began to describe the inmates of the manse, I mentioned that Mrs. Barrie said, on leaving the parlour, she was going to see if the “bairns were happit.” She seldom spoke Scotch, but when she did, it was with quaint emphasis and special sweetness. There was no real need for Mrs. Barrie having any anxiety on this subject of “happing,” as Bell was always on the alert; but Mrs. Barrie’s motherly heart could not rest until she had seen, and kissed in their beds, her “wee croodlin’ doos.” She went first to see Bell about the supper; then to Bell’s room, where Mary and Flora were fast asleep; then to her own room, where Lewis was sleeping soundly, but James wide awake, scheming in his little head whether he could not make a pair of skates, and wishing that Bell would come up, as her “pattens” seemed the likeliest raw material to make them of, and he had seen an old pair in the byre. Mrs. Barrie heard his story, and said they would never do; but that Mr. Martin was in the parlour, and she would ask him the price of a pair, if he would sleep like a good boy; and kissing both, and “tucking” them in, she returned to the parlour.