'Oh, Weelum! oh, my boy!' she said, between her kinks, 'it's no' you—it's no' you I'm lauchin' at. It's something that happened at the weekly prayer-meetin' in Mrs Shankland's last Wednesday nicht. D' ye mind o' Dauvid Tamson the draper?'
I nodded in the affirmative.
'Weel, as ye dootless ken, Dauvid has been a' his days a conceited, fussy, arguin' man, aye desperate honest and well-meanin', but terr'ble unreasonable and heidstrong, and he's never dune takin' to the law or consultin' his agent, as he ca's it. Weel, he was at the prayer-meetin' last Wednesday nicht, and, as it happened, it was his turn to officiate. After we had sung a psalm and engaged in a word o' prayer, he began to read the last pairt o' the fifth chapter o' Mattha, and when he cam' to the fortieth verse: "And if any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also," Dauvid hovered a blink. Then he re-read it very slowly, and says he, "Freens, I've aye prided mysel' in my knowledge o' the Bible; but I'm forced to admit that this is the first time I ever noticed that there was evidence in Scripture o' oor Saviour havin' been ployin' wi' litigations and in the lawyers' hauns. I dinna ken hoo far He carrit His case, but if my experience was His, He need not have said let him have thy cloak, for the hungry deevils wad ha'e ta'en it whether or no'."'
I wonder, did Betty imagine that the recital of that story would divert my mind from the subject of our conversation and the purpose I had in view? Somehow I think, as an inspiration, the means to this end had suddenly occurred to her; but, if such was her aim, the hastily conceived plot failed.
By a good deal of argument and a modicum of cajolery, I gained my point. What the terms are which we have arranged is Betty's concern and mine only. All I may say here is that the weekly amount has to be paid to Nathan, of whom more anon, and that the subject of pounds, shillings, and pence has never to be broached in her hearing again.
She said 'Good-night' to me an hour ago. The impatient sounds of remonstrance from the soo-cruive at the head of the garden subsided shortly after she left me, from which I argued that the inner wants of the occupant had been attended to. The chop-chopping of vegetables on the kitchen table below ceased half-an-hour ago, and I know that a little at least of to-morrow's dinner has ceased to trouble Betty's anxious mind.
The shades of night are gathering round me. A soft breeze stirs the branches of the lime-trees, and through my open window it fans my face where I lie. Somewhere away Rashbrigward, I hear the quivering yammer of a startled whaup, and the crooning lullaby of the whispering Nith falls like music on my ear. In the ryegrass field at the top of the Gallowsflat a wandering landrail, elusive and challenging, craiks his homeward way; while from Cample Strath or Closeburn Heights is fitfully wafted to me the warning bark of a farmer's dog. The clamp-clamp of a cadger's tired-out horse and the rattle of an empty cart sound loud and long in the deserted street. Hurrying footsteps echo and re-echo, and gradually die away into silence. Then evening's wings are folded o'er me, a blissful peace and a quiet contentment fill my heart, and under the glamour and spell of nature's benediction I turn my head on my grateful pillow.
CHAPTER II.
Nathan Hebron is Betty Grier's husband; or, rather, I should say, Betty Grier is Nathan Hebron's wife. This may possibly be considered a distinction without a difference; but when you have been introduced into the inner courts of these two worthies' acquaintance, you will somehow feel that the latter assertion is the more correct and appropriate.