“Oh, Erchie!” she cried hysterically, and dropped into a chair. “I wad never mak’ a man o’ business. My hert’s in a palpitation—jist fair stottin’. I peety them that has the bother o’ muckle money.”
“Myjove!” said Erchie in alarm, “were they no’ nice to ye? If they werena nice and ceevil, I’ll—I’ll tak’ oot every penny, and then they’ll see whaur they are.”
“Oh, they were as nice as they could be,” Jinnet hurried to explain. “And I got the money a’ richt. But oh! I was that put-aboot. Thon slippy floor aye frichtens me, and the gentlemen inside the coonter in their wee cages like Duffy’s goldy——”
“Goldies—ay, that’s jist whit they are,” said Erchie. “It’s a fine bird a goldie if ye get a guid yin; it can whustle better nor a canary.”
“——like Duffy’s goldie, and that rale weel put-on. Each o’ them had as muckle gold and silver aboot him as wad fill a bakie. I nearly fented when yin o’ them spoke to me awfu’ Englified, and askit whit he could dae for me the day.
“‘Oh,’ says I, ‘I see ye’re throng; I’ll can come back anither time,’ and I was makin’ for the door when he cried me back, and said he wasna that throng but that he wad be gled to dae onything he could for me. I thocht he wad gie me the money wi’ a grudge when he found I wanted twa pound ten in silver, but he coonted it oot like lichtnin’, and bangs it foment me. A rale obleegin’ lad he was, but no’ lookin’ awfu’ strong; I think I’ll knit him a pair o’ warm socks or a muffler for his New Year.”
“Ye’re a rale divert, Jinnet!” said Erchie.
“I jist picked up the money withoot coontin’ it and turned to gang awa’. ‘Hold on, Mistress MacPherson,’ he cries; ‘ye’ll be as weel to coont yer siller afore ye leave the bank in case I’m cheatin’ ye,’ and my face got as red’s the fire. ‘I wadna hae the cheek to doot ye efter seein’ ye coontin’t yersel’,’ I tellt him, and cam’ awa’. But I went up a close further along the street and coonted it.”
“I could bate a pound ye did,” said Erchie.
And now, having got out her money, Jinnet had to go shopping. Ordinary shopping had no terrors for her; she loved to drop into Lindsay, the grocer’s, and discourse upon the prices of simple things to eat, and feel important when he offered to send his boy with the goods; she was quite at home in the little side-street shops where they sell trimming, and bolts of tape, and remnants of print; or the oil and colour shops where she was known and could spend a pleasant ten minutes’ gossip over the purchase of a gallon of paraffin. But Christmas shopping was no ordinary shopping, and was entered on with almost as much apprehension as her expedition to the bank. It had to be done in big warehouses, where the attendants were utter strangers to her, and had ways frigid and unfamiliar.