Shenac's Work at Home

by Margaret M. Robertson

“I should not go there, of course; they must let me bring the wool home. And there’s no use in telling my mother till I see whether they’ll agree. It would only vex her. And, Hamish, it’s all nonsense about my having too much to do. There’s only the potatoes; and Hugh can bide at home from the school to gather them and the turnips, and Dan will be as well pleased if I leave them to him. I am only afraid that he has been fancying he is to plough, and he’s not fit for it.”

“No, he’s not fit for it,” said Hamish. “But I don’t like John Firinn. Is there no one else?”

“No; for if we speak to the Camerons or Angus Dhu, it will just be the same as saying we want them to make a bee. I hate bees,—for us, I mean. It was well enough when they all thought it was just for the summer, and that then Allister would be home. But now we must do as other folk do, and be independent. So I must speak to John. He’s not very trustworthy, I’m afraid; but that’s maybe because few trust him. I don’t think he’ll wrong my mother, if he promises to do the land.”

“Perhaps you are right, Shenac,” said Hamish with a sigh.

“But, Hamish,” said Shenac eagerly, “you could not do this work, even if you were well and strong.” She was not answering his words, but the thoughts which she knew were in his heart. “Come with me, Hamish. It will do you good, and it would be far better for you to make a bargain with John Firinn than for me. Shenac yonder is going. Come with us, Hamish.”

“No,” said Hamish. “The children are at the school, and maybe Dan will go to the mill; and my mother must not be left alone. And you are the one to make the bargain about the spinning. I don’t believe John will be hard upon you; and if you are shamefaced, Shenac yonder will speak for you.”

But Shenac did not intend her cousin to know anything about the matter till it should be settled, though she did not tell her brother so. She went away a little anxious and uncertain. For though she had been the main dependence all summer for the work both in the house and in the field, she had had very little to do with other people; and her heart failed her at the thought of speaking to any one about their affairs, especially to John Firinn. So it was with a slow step and a troubled face that she took her way over the field to find her cousin.

She had been a little doubtful all day whether she should find Shenac at home and at liberty to go with her, but she never thought of finding Shenac’s father there. They were rolling—that is, clearing off—the felled trees in Angus Dhu’s farther field, she knew, and Shenac might be there, and she thought that her father must be. She had not met Angus Dhu face to face fairly since that May-day by the creek; that is, she had never seen him unless some one else was present, and the thought of doing so was not at all pleasant to her. So when, on turning the corner, she saw his tall and slightly-bent figure moving towards her, in her first surprise and dismay she had some thoughts of turning and running away. She did not, however, but came straight on up the path.

“I was not sure it was you, Shenac,” was her uncle’s greeting; “you are seen here so rarely. It must be something more than common that brings you from home to-day, you have grown such a busy woman.”

“I came for Cousin Shenac to go with me to Mary Matheson’s, if she can be spared. Is she at home to-day?” said Shenac, with some hesitation, for she would far rather have made her request to Shenac’s mother.