"Dinna think, dinna think," said Mr. Menzies, "that I propose killin' the bit thing"--Katie dropped her eyes again on her apron--"but," he continued, "I canna see what hairm it wad do, and I think it wad do a hantle o' guid, if ye wad let me tak' oot the cage, and let the bird flee awa' tae sing wi' the lave o' birds. In this way, ye see----"
Katie rose up, her face pale with--dare we say it?--suppressed passion. This call of Menzies was to give strength and comfort, forsooth, to her in her affliction! She seized the elder by his arm, drew him gently to the door of the bedroom, which was so far open as to enable him to see Adam asleep. One arm of the Sergeant was extended over the bed, his face was towards them, his grey locks escaped from under his night-cap, and his expression was calm and composed. Katie said nothing, but pointed to her husband and looked sternly at Menzies. She then led him to the street door, and whispered in his ear--
"Ae word afore we pairt:--I wadna gie that man, in health or sickness, life or death, for a' the Session! If he's no' a Christian, an' if he hasna God's blessing, wae's me for the warl'! I daur ony o' ye to come here again, and speak ill o' him, as if he was in a faut! I daur ony o' ye to touch his bird! Tell that to Smellie--tell't to the parish, and lee me alane wi' my ain heart, wi' my ain guidman, and wi' my ain Saviour, to live or dee as the Almighty wills!"
Katie turned back into her kitchen, while poor Menzies walked out into the street, feeling no anger but much pain, and more than ever convinced that he had been made a tool of by Smellie, contrary to his own common-sense and better feeling.
Menzies made a very short report of the scene to the draper, saying that he would wash his hands clean of the whole business; to which Smellie only said to himself thoughtfully, as Menzies left his shop, "I wish I could do the same--but I'll try!"
CHAPTER XXVII
THE SERGEANT'S SICKNESS AND HIS SICK-NURSE
Dr. Scott, as the reader knows, had visited Adam, and felt a great interest in his patient. The Doctor was a man of few words, very shy, and, as has been indicated, even abrupt and gruff, his only affectation being his desire to appear devoid of any feeling which might seem to interfere with severe medical treatment or a surgical operation. He liked to be thought stern and decided. The fact was that his intense sympathy pained him, and he tried to steel himself against it. When he scolded his patients, it was because they made him suffer so much, and because, moreover, he was angry with himself for being angry with them. He therefore affected unconcern at the very time when his anxiety for a patient made him sleepless, and compelled him often, when in bed, to read medical journals with the aid of a long yellow candle, instead of spending in sleep such portions of his night-life as the sick permitted him to enjoy. He had watched Adam's whole conduct as an elder--had heard much about his labours from his village patients--and, as the result of his observations, had come to the conclusion that he was a man of a rare and right stamp. When the "disturbance", as it was called, about the starling agitated the community, few ever heard the Doctor express his opinion on the great question; but many listened to his loud laugh--wondering as to its meaning--when the case was mentioned, and how oddly he stroked his chin, as if to calm his merriment. Some friends who were more in his confidence heard him utter such phrases, in alluding to the matter, as "only ministerial indigestion", "ecclesiastical hysteria",--forms of evil, by the way, which are rarely dealt with in Church courts.
His attendance on the Sergeant was, therefore, a duty which was personally agreeable to him. He was not very hopeful of success, however, from the time when the fever developed into typhoid of a malignant and extremely infectious type.
The first thing which the Doctor advised, as being necessary for the Sergeant's recovery, was the procuring of a sick-nurse. Poor Katie protested against the proposal. What could any one do, she argued, that she herself was not fit for? What cared she for sleep? She never indeed at any time slept soundly--so she alleged--and could do with very little sleep at all times; she was easily wakened up--the scratch of a mouse would do it; and Adam would do her bidding, for he was always so good and kind: a stranger, moreover, would but irritate him, and "put hersel' aboot". And who could be got to assist? Who would risk their life? Had not others their own family to attend to? Would they bring the fever into their own house? &c. "Na, na," she concluded, "lee Adam tae me, and God will provide!"