This was owing to the fierceness of his principles, his tenacity in holding them, and the vigour with which he carried them out. There is nothing in the world so helpful as a clear understanding between a man and himself as to what it really is which he wants, and a consistent pertinacity in meaning to have it; and yet it seems even rarer than the self-knowledge so highly recommended. Think of the force wasted in desultory effort for the attainment of what is really not desired!
Joseph's principles might all have been resolved into one, and that was to take care of Joseph Smiley. Nothing was too good for that cherished person, so he got the lead; and as nobody else ever got anything at all, it was not more costly than an unprincipled life of impulse, and much more comfortable to the beloved object. Had his brother man been allowed to dip with him in the dish, both must have contented themselves with plain fare, but by letting the brother forage elsewhere, a smaller and choicer mess would be enough for the rest of the party.
When Joseph went out in the morning he locked his door and handed the key to Peggy Mathieson, his neighbour, whom he employed to make his bed, cook his meals, and 'do' for him generally. Peggy was a lone widow, who supplied the youth of the village with bullseyes and marbles. She was discreet and silent, asked no questions and told no tales, and knew how to make him comfortable.
On the evening of the day which had witnessed Joseph's discomfiture at Auchlippie, Peggy was engaged as usual in preparing his evening meal. The fire was lit, and the kettle set to boil, the floor swept, the tea things arranged on the table, and a neat rasher stood ready for the frying pan when he should come in. She was giving a last look around to see that all was in order before retiring to her own premises, when the door opened and Tibbie Tirpie walked in, followed by her daughter carrying a baby. Each had a basket on her arm, and both took seats, which they drew up to the hearth, and seated themselves, before either appeared to observe that any one else was present. As for Peggy, she was a woman of few words, and her employer she knew to be what in higher circles is called a peculiar person, that is one with whose affairs it is safest not to meddle, except by his particular request; therefore she stood silent waiting to be addressed.
'I wuss ye gude e'en, Peggy!' said Tibbie. 'We're juist waitin' for Joseph to come in, and we'll bide till then, e'en gin he be late; sae ye needna mind stoppin' here for hiz. We'se mak out brawly our lane!'
'Aweel, Tibbie, I'se leave ye, for my yett's steikit, an' aiblins there's bairns wantin' some o' my sma' trokes, an' wearyin' to get in.'
'An' noo, Tibbie,' said the mother when they were left alone, 'gie me the bairn, an' gang ye til yer bed. Aiblins ye'll can sleep. Ony gate steik yer eyen ticht, an' dinna cheep, what e'er may come o't; an' let's see gin I canna gar this balksome naig o' yours tak baith bridle an' saidle, ay, an' a lick or twa o' the whup as weel afore I'm through wi' him. Heest ye, lass! an' dinna staand there fummlin' wi' prins. Aff wi' yer bannet an' in wi' ye! Juist hap up weel. It's a kittle job at the best, but gin I'm to hae ye at the greetin' on my haands, forby him, I may lay by afore I begin. In wi'ye!'
Thus exhorted, the daughter lay down in the bed, and covered herself with the blankets.
'Turn round t'ey wa', Tibbie! Ye'd be for keekin' at ween yer eyen, an' greetin', (wha kens?) an' gin he catches sicht o' a sign o' saftness in ye, it's a' ower wi' you an' the bairn!'
The daughter complied, and Tibbie, seated before the fire, brought out certain little habiliments from her basket, and proceeded to array her grandchild for the night, hanging his daylight apparel on chairs, on all the chairs she could find, and marshalling them before the fire, till that staid apartment assumed the appearance not only of a nursery, but of one for a dozen infants. Having got so far, she had leisure to survey the refreshments provided for her son-in-law.