THE SEED POTATOES.
THE agitation which resulted in the Disruption of 1843, when nearly five hundred ministers left the Established Church of Scotland and formed the “Free Church,” extended even to the quiet parish of Blinkbonny, although Mr. Barrie had not taken an active part in the conferences held on the subjects in dispute between the Government and the Non-Intrusionists, as they were sometimes called. He rather avoided the subject; but in the presbytery his attitude indicated that his sympathies were with those who ultimately formed the Free Church,—so much so that many of his friends remonstrated with him, urging him to be careful, to consider his family, not to commit himself hastily. The latter advice Mr. Barrie carried out by thanking is advisers very sincerely, assuring them that he would endeavour to act conscientiously and “judeeciously;” and although he did not commit himself, his answer was made the basis of different conclusions, according as the “conscientiously” or the “judeeciously” was put foremost.
He more nearly committed himself to Bell than to any other person, and this accidentally. She was the head, the only gardener, and early spring found her deeply absorbed in the arrangement of the season’s crops. She had already planted peas and beans, and sundry vegetables; had carefully cut the seed of the early potatoes, making each potato yield as many bits with eyes or buds as she thought safe; and had the “dibble” in her hand to form the holes into which to drop the seed, when Mr. Barrie, returning from the village, stopped at the “break” which she was beginning to plant.
He never passed Bell without some kindly word. In the garden it was generally, “Well, Bell, always at it?” and Bell’s “Yes, sir” followed him, for he generally walked on. But on this occasion he stood for a few seconds, long enough for Bell to look at him inquiringly, then to wonder whether to speak or not. At length Mr. Barrie said, with something like an introductory sigh:
“Well, Bell, planting the early potatoes, I see. How will you look if we have to flit soon and leave the crop to some other body?”
“Flit!” said Bell; “flit! What d’ye mean, sir? We’ll flit nane;” and forgetting her usual good manners, she added, “Ye havena gotten a call to ony ither kirk that I’ve heard o’, or to ony o’ the big town kirks, have ye, sir?”
“No, not exactly that, Bell; but we may have to leave the manse for all that. But if we have, we will leave the garden in such a state as to be a credit to us.” Then collecting himself, and observing her perplexed face, he made a passing remark on the weather, and had moved towards the manse, too confused to be able to reply to Bell’s practical question, which cut him to the quick, simple as it was, “What for did ye no’ speak about that before I cut the pitaties, sir?”
COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE.
The question was not asked in Bell’s usual respectful tone, and although she saw that Mr. Barrie had got into the house, she kept looking at the closed door as if it should answer her; then slowly surveyed the garden, the mould of which had been enriched by her industry. She rested her eye first on what she had already planted, next on what she intended to plant; wistfully on the rows that were already above the ground, and that had an hour before been her pride; then looked again at the manse door with an expression of bewilderment. She took the hamper which contained the seed-potatoes in the one hand, still holding the dibble in the other, and walked dreamily round the parts of the garden that were planted. The pace was very unlike her everyday one; it was slow, heavy, interrupted. Every few steps she looked around her solemnly, until she reached the top of the garden, when, as if some forgotten engagement had flashed across her mind, she walked briskly to the outhouse, laid down her perplexing seed-potatoes, locked the door, and tidied herself more quickly and more carelessly than usual. Putting on her shawl and a knitted worsted black cap or “mutch” with a crimson border (for she wore a bonnet only on Sundays), something like a hood (it had a name, which I now forget), she went to Mrs. Barrie to inquire if she needed anything from the village,—that being Bell’s way of asking whether she could get out for a short time.
“Nothing, Bell,” said Mrs. Barrie, “nothing at all that I remember of; and I am anxious to have as little as possible in the house at present.”