It was with genuine astonishment Erchie one day had his wife come to him with a proposal that she should keep a lodger.
“A ludger!” he cried. “It wad be mair like the thing if ye keepit a servant lassie, for whiles I think ye’re fair wrocht aff yer feet.”
“Oh, I’m no’ sae faur done as a’ that,” said Jinnet. “I’m shair I’m jist as smert on my feet as ever I was, and I could be daein’ wi’ a ludger fine. It wad keep me frae wearyin’.”
“Wearyin’!” said her husband. “It’s comin’ to’t when my ain ‘wife tells me I’m no’ company for her. Whit is’t ye’re wantin’, and I’ll see whit I can dae. If it’s music ye’re for, I’ll buy a melodian and play’t every nicht efter my tea. If it’s improvin’ conversation ye feel the want o’, I’ll ask Duffy up every ither nicht and we’ll can argue on Fore Ordination and the chance o’ the Celtic Fitba’ Club to win the League Championship the time ye’re darnin’ stockin’s. ‘Wearyin’’ says she! Perhaps ye wad like to jine a dancin’ school; weel, I’ll no’ hinder ye, I’m shair, but I’ll no’ promise to walk to the hall wi’ ye every nicht cairryin’ yer slippers. Start a ludger! I’m shair we’re no’ that hard up!”
“No, we’re no’ that hard up,” Jinnet confessed, “but for a’ the use we mak’ o’ the room we micht hae somebody in it, and it wad jist be found money. I was jist thinkin’ it wad be kind o’ cheery to have a dacent young chap gaun oot and in. I’m no’ for ony weemen ludgers; they’re jist a fair bother, aye hingin’ aboot the hoose and puttin’ their nose into the kitchen, tellin’ ye the richt wye to dae this and that, and burnin’ coal and gas the time a man ludger wad be oot takin’ the air.”
“Takin’ drink, mair likely,” said Erchie, “and comin’ hame singin’ ‘Sodgers o’ the Queen,’ and scandalisin’ the hale stair.”
“And I’m no’ for a tredsman,” Jinnet went on, with the air of one whose plans were all made.
“Of course no’,” said her husband, “tredsmen’s low. They’re, no’ cless. It’s a peety ye mairried yin. Perhaps ye’re thinkin’ o’ takin’ in a Chartered Accoontant, or maybe a polisman. Weel I’m jist tellin’ ye I wadna hae a polisman in my paurlor; his helmet wadna gang richt wi’ the furniture, and the blecknin’ for his boots wad cost ye mair than whit he pyed for his room.”
“No, nor a polisman!” said Jinnet. “I was thinkin’ o’ maybe a quate lad in a warehouse, or a nice factor’s clerk, or something o’ that sort. He wad be nae bother. It’s jist the ae makin’ o’ parridge in the mornin’. Ye’re no’ to thraw wi’ me aboot this, Erchie; my mind’s made up I’m gaun to keep a ludger.”
“If your mind’s made up,” he replied, “then there’s nae use o’ me argy-bargyin’ wi’ ye. I’m only your man. It bates me to ken whit ye’re gaun to dae wi’ the money, if it’s no’ to buy a motor-cairrage. Gie me your word ye’re no’ gaun in for ony sports o’ that kind. I wad hate to see ony wife o’ mine gaun skooshin’ oot the Great Western Road on a machine like a tar-biler, wi’ goggles on her een and a kahoutchy trumpet skriechin’ ‘pip! pip!”’