The good-will, then, towards each other, between the husbands, was thus not much greater than between their wives; but, in their case, of course, it was not marked by any of those outbreaks and overt acts which distinguished the enmity of their better halves. The dislike of the former was passive, that of the latter active—most indefatigably active; for Mrs. Anderson was every bit as spirited a woman as her neighbour, Mrs. Callender, and was a dead match for her in any way she might try.
Thus stood matters between these two rival houses of York and Lancaster, when Mrs. Callender, on looking from one of her windows one day, observed that the head of her rival's husband, who was at the moment recreating himself in his garden, was comfortably set off with a splendid new striped Kilmarnock nightcap. Now, when Mrs. Callender saw this, and recollected the very shabby, faded article of the same denomination—"mair like a dish-cloot," as she muttered to herself, "than onything else"—which her Thomas wore, she determined on instantly providing him with a new one; resolved, as she also remarked to herself, not to let the Anderson's beat her, even in the matter of a nightcap. But Mrs. Callender not only resolved on rivalling her neighbour, in the matter of having a new nightcap for her husband, but in surpassing her in the quality of the said nightcap. She determined that her "man's" should be a red one; "a far mair genteeler thing," as she said to herself, "than John Anderson's vulgar striped Kilmarnock." Having settled this matter to her own satisfaction, and having dexterously prepared her husband for the vision of a new nightcap—which she did by urging sundry reasons, totally different from those under whose influence she really acted, as she knew that he would never give into such an absurdity as a rivalship with his neighbour in the matter of a nightcap—this matter settled then, we say, the following day saw Mrs. Callender sailing into Glasgow, to purchase a red nightcap for her husband—a mission which, we need not say, she very easily accomplished. Her choice was one of the brightest hue she could find—a flaming article, that absolutely dazzled Thomas with the intensity of its glare, when it was triumphantly unrolled before him.
"Jenny," said the latter, in perfect simplicity of heart, and utter ignorance of the true cause of his wife's care of his comfort in the present instance—"Jenny, but that is a bonny thing," he said, looking admiringly at the gaudy commodity, into which he had now thrust his hand and part of his arm, in order to give it all possible extension, and thus holding it up before him as he spoke.
"Really it is a bonny thing," he repeated, "and, I warrant, a comfortable."
"Isna't?" replied his wife, triumphantly. And she would have added, "How far prettier and mair genteeler a thing than John Anderson's!" But, as this would have betrayed secrets, she refrained, and merely added, "Now, my man, Tammas, ye'll just wear't when ye gang about the doors and the yard. It'll mak ye look decent and respectable—what ye wasna in that creeshy cloot ye're wearin, that made ye look mair like a tauty bogle than a Christian man."
Thomas merely smiled at these remarks, and made no reply in words.
Thus far, then, Mrs. Callender's plot had gone on swimmingly. There only wanted now her husband's appearance in the garden in his new red nightcap; where the latter could not but be seen by her rival, to complete her triumph—and this satisfaction she was not long denied. Thomas, at her suggestion, warily and cautiously urged however, instantly took the field in his new nightcap; and the result was as complete and decisive as the heart of a woman, in Mrs. Callender's circumstances, could desire. Mrs. Anderson saw the nightcap, guessed the cause of its appearance, and resolved to be avenged. In that moment, when her sight was blasted, her pride humbled, and her spirits roused, which they were all at one and the same time by the vision of Thomas Callender's new red nightcap, she resolved on getting her husband to strike the striped cap, and mount one of precisely the same description—better if possible, but she was not sure if this could be had.
Now, on prevailing on her husband to submit to the acquisition of another new nightcap, Mrs. Anderson had a much more difficult task to perform than her rival; for the cap that John was already provided with, unlike Thomas's, was not a week out of the shop, and no earthly good reason, one would think, could therefore be urged, why he should so soon get another. But what will not woman's wit accomplish? Anything! As proof of this, if proof were wanted, we need only mention that Mrs. Anderson did succeed in this delicate and difficult negotiation, and prevailed upon John, first, to allow her to go into Glasgow to buy him a new red nightcap, and to promise to wear it when it should be bought. How she accomplished this—what sort of reasoning she employed—we know not; but certain it is that it was done. Thus fully warranted, eagerly and cleverly did Mrs. Anderson, on the instant, prepare to execute the mission to which this warrant referred. In ten minutes she was dressed, and, in one more was on her way to Glasgow to make the desiderated purchase. Experiencing, of course, as little difficulty in effecting this matter as her rival had done, Mrs. Anderson soon found herself in possession of a red nightcap, as bright, every bit, as Mr. Callender's; and this cap she had the happiness of drawing on the head of her unconscious husband, who, we need scarcely add, knew as little of the real cause of his being fitted out with this new piece of head-gear as his neighbour, Callender.
Thus far, then, with Mrs. Anderson too, went the plot of the nightcaps smoothly; and all that she also now wanted to attain the end she aimed at, was her husband's appearance in his garden, with his new acquisition on.
This consummation she also quickly brought round. John sallied out with his red nightcap; and, oh, joy of joys! Mrs. Callender saw it. Ay, Mrs. Callender saw it—at once recognised in it the spirit which had dictated its display; and deep and deadly was the revenge that she vowed.