Mrs. Barrie, seconded by her faithful Bell, stuck to her thrifty practices and household duties, whilst at the same time she took great interest in all that concerned the church, and by her good sense and motherly counsel quietly did much useful work. She made Mr. Barrie her first worldly care, and this enabled him to overtake his arduous duties timeously and efficiently.
Bell was as constantly diligent as ever, working away in the house, amongst her live stock, and in getting the garden up to her standard. When the winter evenings set in, she kept stitching away, trying to keep the boys all right; for that was her special department, as Mrs. Barrie attended to the girls’ attire. The wires for knitting stockings were nimbly plied at all spare hours; and as she could read and knit at the same time, she became well up in Free Church matters, as she got a “look of the newspapers” in the evening. She paid little attention to the general news, but perused with great interest “a’thing about kirks.” She also read with much care all the Free Church magazines.
When November term came, Mrs. Barrie, as she had generally done, put into an envelope Bell’s half-yearly wages, or “fee” as Bell called it, and handed the parcel to Bell.
RATHER TOO MUCH.
There was an understanding between them that there was to be no “speakin’ at the ‘speakin’ time,’” that is, no asking Bell if she was “stayin’.” Mrs. Barrie had done this for the first three years, but Bell beseeched her not to do it again,—“she couldna bide it; if she wasna gaun to stop, she wad gi’e plenty warnin’.” And although Bell’s fee had been increased more than once, she had never asked an advance, nor had Mrs. Barrie ever told her of it beforehand; indeed, the payment of the fee seemed to be the most trying part of the intercourse between Mrs. Barrie and Bell, from the strange feeling that some fine natures have when money matters are referred to. Not only was there little said on such occasions, but Bell felt at a loss for words to thank Mrs. Barrie for raising her fee. She seldom got past “it’s far ower kind—far ower kind, ’deed is’t.” And Mrs. Barrie felt the same difficulty, for her reply rarely exceeded, “It’s not that, Bell; I wish”—Then she passed on to some other subject, and both seemed to be relieved, and to enter afresh on another six months’ unclouded intercourse.
On this occasion, however, Mrs. Barrie was surprised at Bell’s troubled look, and more so at her words.
“Mrs. Barrie,” said Bell, handing her back the money, “I canna tak’ it, and I daurna tak’ it. Dinna be angry at me, an’ oh, mem, dinna press me. This has been a heavy half-year on ye, an’ if I daur’d offer ye what little I hae, I wad gladly gi’e a’ my ‘stockin’ fittie;” for an old rig-and-fur stocking was Bell’s purse, and she kept it for safety in the bottom of the case of the kitchen clock, covered up with an old dirty dusty wrapper, the only regularly dusty thing in her kitchen.
Mrs. Barrie thoroughly appreciated Bell’s generous thoughtfulness, and although she was put about by it, she tried to keep this from Bell.
“Bell,” said Mrs. Barrie, “you’re exceedingly kind, it’s very thoughtful indeed of you; it’s just like yourself. But I’m thankful to say that there is not the slightest need for your perplexing yourself about us, for we’ve enough and to spare, so please say no more about the matter; but thank you very much, Bell, all the same.”
Bell was loth to yield, and only did so after repeated pressing. Mrs. Barrie left the kitchen, and had hardly sat down in the parlour, when Bell came in, and laying a one-pound note on the table, said: