David Fleming's Forgiveness

by Margaret M. Robertson

Chapter Ten.

Katie’s Friendships.

The life which healthy, good-tempered, unsophisticated children may live on a farm has in it more of the elements of true enjoyment than can be found in almost any other kind of life. If poverty or the necessity of constant work press too severely upon them, of course the enjoyment is interfered with, but not even poverty or hard work can spoil it altogether. There are always the sunshine and the sweet air; there are the freshness and the beauty of the early morning, which not one in ten of the dwellers in town know anything of by experience; the dawn, the sunrise, the glitter of dewdrops, the numberless sweet sounds and scents that belong to no other time. Young people with open eyes and quick sympathies find countless sources of interest and enjoyment in the beautiful growing things of the woods and fields, and in the ceaseless changes going on among them. Almost unconsciously they gain through all these a wisdom which is better than book lore, a discipline of heart and mind and temper which tends to soften and elevate the whole nature, leaving them less open to the temptations incident to youth and evil companionships.

They were very happy together, these two fast and true friends, as they never might have become had they had at this time more frequent intercourse with other young people; and true friendship between brother and sister is the perfect ideal of friendship. It does not always exist even between brothers and sisters who love each other dearly. It is something more than the natural affection which strengthens (as children grow older) into brotherly and sisterly love. It implies something that is not always found where the ties of blood and kindred are most warmly cherished, not a blindness to each other’s faults or defects of character, but a full and loving appreciation of all admirable qualities both of mind and heart, a harmony of feeling, sentiments, and tastes which does not exist between brothers and sisters generally.

Day by day Mrs Fleming grew more and more at ease about Davie, seeing the love between the brother and sister.

“A year or two and the laddie’s restless time will be over, and all that makes us anxious about him now, his plans and fancies, his craze for books, and his longing to put his hand to the guiding of his ain life will be modified by the knowledge that comes with experience. But, eh me! What is the use of speaking o’ experience? If only the good Father above would take him in hand! And who shall say that He is not doing it even now, and making our bonny Katie the instrument of His will for her brother’s good? And, Dawvid, we mustna be hard on the laddie, but just let him have his fancies about things, and let him carry them out when they are harmless, and when they dinna cost ower muckle money,” added grannie, with prudent afterthought, for some of Davie’s fancies would have cost money if he had been allowed “to go the full length of his tether.”

“And after all is said, there is sense in his fancies. It would be a grand thing to have a hundredweight or two of honey, as he says we might, and never kill the bees. Think of that now! And nothing spent on them, but all the blossom on the trees, and all the flowers of the field theirs for the taking. And as for the new milk-house, with ice in it, and running water, it would be a grand thing. And, as Katie says, it’s almost as easy to take care of the milk of ten cows as six, and there is pasture enough. As to the churning, if it could be done by the running water, wouldna that be a fine help? And we must just have patience with him, as the Lord has had with us this many a year and day.”

Mrs Fleming got no answer to all this. She did not expect one. This was the way she took to familiarise the grandfather’s mind with plans that might come to something. The old man’s habitual caution was changing with the passing years into timidity and dread of change; and his long dwelling on his state of indebtedness, and the subjection to his “enemy” that it implied, made him afraid of anything that would render it necessary to dispense the smallest sum for any other purpose than the payment of this debt. His son James had let his money go from him with a free hand, and though he might have got it back again had he lived, his father could not but remember that it was through his plans, through his desire to improve the fortunes of his family, which had carried him beyond his means, that this debt, or a part of it, had been left upon them.

As for Davie, what could a lad like him know about such things? Fancies that would lead to nothing but waste and want! And yet his wife’s words told upon him as all her words did sooner or later.

“Would you like it then, Katie, my woman?” said he, as one night, when all the work was over, he came on Katie sitting with Nannie and Sandy on the bank of the burn. Davie was on the other side pacing up and down, measuring out, as they had done together many times before, the site of the new milk-house. Many thoughts and words had Davie expended upon it, and so had Katie for that matter. So she rose and walked with her grandfather along the burnside, out of Davie’s hearing, and then she answered brightly: