The “thinking of going home,” which had been hinted at once or twice before, was now general, and the party broke up with good wishes and kind feelings warmly expressed: “We’ve haen a grand nicht o’t!”—“Lang may ye be spared to ane anither, an’ aye be as happy as ye’ve made your freends the nicht!”—crowned by “Auld Langsyne,” with, as the play-bills have it, “the whole strength of the company.”
Our house was above the shop; separate villas, now so common for tradesmen and shopkeepers, were then only occupied by the gentry. The system of villas in the outskirts has shortened the hours of business, and is healthier, but the above-the-shop houses kept a man, and often, be it said with all honour, his wife, thoroughly at the head of affairs. In many businesses, then as yet, the wives were invaluable. Who cannot recall the active, polite, effective way in which the Mistress “kept the shop”? and how nice it was to be served by her own self, with her interchange of homely civilities, and the ready knack she had of hitting on what was wanted! This good custom is happily still not uncommon. Long may it continue!
PEGGY RITCHIE ON THE KIRKYARD.
My business did not require Agnes to be in the shop, but in my absence she used to look in to help the lad or lads, and took to it, and the customers took to her. Often, also, when the assistants were out, she came down to keep me (maybe to keep herself) from wearying; and she soon made such changes as only an orderly woman can devise; and from being interested, she easily became acquainted with the details, and made alterations here and reforms there that resulted in our increased prosperity and comfort. We went on steadily making things better, soon got to be easier in money matters, then laid past a little, then looked out for some investment. But I am the writer, not the subject, of these “bits,” and will spare my readers the dry details of a homely life in a country village. I only add that we had no extra call on our means in the way of having to bring up a family. This was a sore subject many years ago, but it is a mere fact now.
My wife being anxious to get everything to her mind about the house, began next morning to clear up, and sent for some folks who were very glad to get some of the substantial remains to eke out their scanty tables. One of these was Peggy Ritchie. She had been a servant in my father’s house at the time of his death, and my housekeeper for nearly a year thereafter. She had married Gavin Sinclair, a widower with a moderately-sized family. Her father was the sexton and minister’s man, but now unfit for work, and Gavin, or Guy as he was commonly called, “officiated” instead of old Adam Ritchie. Peggy said she was “thankfu’ to get onything, forbye being proud to be mindit, for Guy was very slack the noo, there werena near sae mony deaths as ane would expect this cauld weather. It was very unfortunate, it came at an ill time; if there wasna something doin’ in the kirkyard soon, it wad be a bad job. Guy could say, as the beadle o’ Borthwick said to the Lord Chief Baron, ‘he hadna buried a leevin’ craitur for six weeks.’”
“And how’s your father, Peggy?” said my wife.
“Very middlin’, Mrs. Martin” (Peggy used Mrs. very often and very graciously); “but he was sayin’ to Guy last nicht, after Mr. Barrie gaed out,—he ca’d in to see my faither; he often ca’s. I’m aye glad to see him. He kens what puir folk need in cauld weather. Well, as I was sayin’, my faither says to Guy, ‘Be thankfu’ ye hae Mr. Barrie to deal wi’; he’s a considerate man an’ a gentleman. Ane o’ the ministers before him, no’ to name onybody,—it’s as weel no’ to gie names,—weel, ane o’ the ministers in my day,’ says my faither, ‘was the maist pernickety, impatient, bathersome craitur’ ever was seen. If he wanted onything, ye must do’t in an instant, or he was fair dancin’ wi’ passion. It was a thrang time in the kirkyard, a sair winter, and I had some idle men helpin’ me. The minister was getting something done to the manse, and aye send-sendin’ for me to help, and to come that very moment. I’ve actually seen me,’ says my faither, ‘hae to bring men out o’ the very grave to serve him.’ My faither’s sair failed.”
Knowing that Peggy had been my housekeeper, my wife asked if there was anything I was specially fond of, any special dishes, etc.
MATHIESON’S HEID.
Peggy’s sense of importance was flattered at being consulted (as she afterwards put it), and she said, with a gesture of surprise, “The maister,—Maister Martin,—there was nae man could be easier pleased wi’ his meat than him. Gie him a lamb leg an’ a berry tart to his denner, an’ he was perfectly satisfied.” So he may, thought my wife.