The Twa Miss Dawsons

by Margaret M. Robertson

“But you must come away. It is not fair to her. And think of her father.”

“Yes. I have ay thought of him. Yes, mother, I will go with you,” and he stooped and touched, not with his fingers, but with his lips, the shining braid of hair that hung down to the floor, and then he turned and went out.

It was hard on Mr Dawson. He had been more than anxious for the sailor’s return for his mother’s sake and his sister’s, as well as for his own, and he had meant to give him the best of friendly welcomes. But now what was this he saw?

Astonishment was his first feeling. He had never once thought of these two in this way, at least he had not for a long time. Then he was angry. Had Jean been deceiving him all this time. But his anger was only momentary. He knew his daughter too well to believe that possible. He knew not what to think, except that his welcome to the sailor was not so ready as it would have been an hour ago.

Fortunately it was not called for at the moment, for Captain Calderwood turned into Nannie’s kitchen and went out the other way without seeing him.

Seldom in his life had the old man been so startled. Instead of going into the house, he turned down to the pier to consider the matter. He had not much comfort in that. As he turned again into the High-street, he heard the sound of voices far up in the square, and as he went on, he caught sight of his own low carriage standing in the midst of what seemed a crowd of people, not waiting there quietly, but eager and excited, over something which had pleased them well.

And could it be possible? In the carriage sat his daughter-in-law with his grandson on her lap. He knew that he was angry then, and he pushed his way forward intending to say so plainly, and to put an end to all this, at least as far as she was concerned.

But when he drew nearer, and Marion, with the tears running over her smiling face, stretched out both hands to him over her son, claiming his sympathy in the great joy that had come to her, somehow he forgot his anger and shook her hands kindly and joyfully; yes, and kissed her there before all the folk, to their intense amazement and delight.

It had not been at Marion that he had been angry. And he had not even the excuse of danger for his anger, for young Robbie Saugster had placed himself at the heads of the ponies, and there was not the slightest danger of their running away.

And when he had time to look about him, there was half the folk in Portie assembled to welcome the returned sailor, and in the midst of them stood George, with his arm laid across the shoulders of his friend. It was something to see these two faces—the one fair, smiling, noble,—the other no less noble, but brown and weatherbeaten, and with a cloud upon it, notwithstanding all the joy of home coming. They were brothers in heart, he saw that, whatever might befall. Before he could make up his mind to push his way toward them, a hush fell on the crowd. Captain Calderwood was making a speech.