'Oh, there's nae rule, Maister Weelum—at least, no' in Thornhill. No, no; as lang as ye pey for the job, ye can put ony kind ye like on.' And she added, 'Wad ye no' leave the paper to the womenfolk, Maister Weelum? If ye do ye'll no' gang far wrang.'
'Yes, Betty, that's all right; but I don't know that I could eat my meals comfortably in a room among blue roses. How would a nice, warm-coloured imitation of canvas look, without any pattern at all?'
'A warm-coloured imitation o' canvas? Imphm! I—I juist canna tak' that in; but if it's what I think it is, wad that no' look awfu' mealie-bag lookin'?'
'I'm sure it won't, Betty, and—and—well, I know it is the correct thing. Besides'——
'Ye will hark on "the correct thing," Maister Weelum. I've telt ye that whatever ye want, and pey for, is the correct thing in Thornhill. I've great faith in Mrs Black's taste. I aye tak' my cue, as it were, frae her, though I dinna tell her that; an', where colour is concerned, whether in papers or bonnets, I never think she's far wrang. She comes honestly by it. She aince telt me that it was bred in the bane, for her faither was a colourin'-man in a waxcloth factory aboot Kirkcaldy.'
Mrs Black's hereditary claim did not appeal to me, and in a most agreeable and ingratiating way I was advocating my own scheme, when the outer door opened.
'That'll be the doctor, I'm thinkin',' said Betty, and she hurried off downstairs to receive him.
As my acquaintance with Dr Grierson ripens my admiration for him increases, and my regret becomes all the keener that I had no knowledge of him in my boyhood. An early impression of any one, the outcome of youthful intimacy, is ever a sure basis on which to found true friendship, and I somehow imagine that, to a thoughtful, observant boy, such as Betty assures me I was, he would have been not only a willing, sympathetic preceptor, but also a great power for good in many ways. I have known him now for only a few months; but during these quiet, uneventful days of convalescence I have had opportunities of studying him well, and have noted with peculiar pleasure his love of nature in all its phases, his reverence for everything uplifting and elevating, and his sympathy, deep and profound, for all in suffering and distress.
Yesterday, when I was in the dumps, seeing everything as through a glass darkly, and feeling isolated and bereft of sympathetic, intelligent companionship, those lovable traits of his stood out vividly, and the thought came to me that I should tell him of the lady of my dream, and of our strange meeting in the Nithbank Wood. Betty, I know, ought to be my confidante; but I have the feeling that her experience is too limited and her outlook on life generally too parochial to admit of a well-reasoned, dispassionate view of my case; and, though yesterday and to-day I have had ample opportunities of opening my heart to her, I have felt restrained and dissuaded. Some day I shall tell her everything, and I know she will rejoice with me. But the time is not yet.