“But a cat has no need to take thought about its dress,” said Marion, philosophically, “and see, I’m wanting to make a good impression. My silk would maybe look too grown up, and trying to be grand; and it’s a very rustling silk, like your red one, aunty. But I notice that very soft silks are the fashion, and white is becoming to me. If the body was made like that one of Janet MacColl’s——”
“With plenty of nice red ribbons——”
“No red ribbons at all,” cried Marion, “but just muslin work, and all white. In white,” she continued, with natural perception, “you cannot go far wrong. I wish I was as easy in my mind about Archie. His trousers are all bags at the knees, and there’s something about his coat—Papa,” said Marion, “is an old gentleman, but there’s something quite different about his coat.”
“I would just imagine sae,” said Mrs. Brown with contempt. “What is he caring about his coat, a man of his age, whereas Archie’s but a young lad! I would buy a pair of lavender gloves, Archie. With all that money in your pocket ye may weel allow yourself a pair of gloves, and Marion too.”
“Oh, I will buy her as many gloves as she likes,” said Archie, with something of the tone of the millionaire—as he felt himself to be. He had the remains of the twenty pounds in his pocket after having got many gratifications out of it, including the dinner to the lads, which had been highly successful, but not very costly, and he was on the whole very well satisfied with himself.
“I canna remember,” said Mrs. Brown, “that ye have offered gloves or onything else, or so much as a flower, to me. But that’s a very different question,” she added, with satirical briskness; “I’m just mysel’ the old glove that ye toss away. It’s done its part, poor thing, but ye’ve nae mair use for it.—Mey, slip the new frock on ye that I may see how it looks, and then you could run to Miss Peebles. If she canna do it, I will just have to cobble it up for you mysel’.”
“I’m going to have no cobbling up,” said Marion decisively. “She must just do it, whether she can or not. She would be very fain to get jobs from Rosmore.”
“Aunty, did ye mean yon—about my never giving ye anything?” said Archie, when May had gone.
“Me, laddie? No, no, I didna mean it. I was just in a girning humour. She doesna see it, and you dinna see it; and maybe I think more than I should about the dirty siller, and how I am to make my living after having been used to owre muckle comfort and ease. But it’s just my life that’s going from me,” cried Mrs. Brown, putting her handkerchief to her eyes. “If I did speak about the housekeeper’s place, it was no for the grand situation nor the wages, nor even the perquisites, it was just that I would have been near my bairns. I would have seen my bairns—them the young lady and the young gentleman, and me the servant woman; but I could have seen them every day, and now the Lord kens if I’ll ever see them mair.”
“Aunty, we’re not savages nor brute beasts: how can ye think ye will never see us mair?”