“’Deed, mem,” said I, “it’s rather a lamentable case. But why did you not catch a green sharpshooter yourself, in those blessed days?”
“Hoot, Mr Balgownie, it was quite my ain faut, as I said. I was perfectly ignorant of the most common principles of the art, and knew no more of the way and manner o’ catching a husband, no more than if I had never been born in Glasgow. In fac’, I was a perfect simpleton, an’ thought it the easiest matter in the warld; an’ ye see, sir, I had a wee trifle o’ siller, besides my looks (which, ye ken, Mr Thingumbob, were far from being disparageable); and so I was a perfect simple, and just thocht I was like the lass in the sang—
Set her up on Tintock tap,
The wind’ll blaw a man till her.
But ne’er a man was blawn to me; an’ there’s a’ my giggling acquaintances married, ane after the ither. There’s Bell Mushat, an’ Jeanie Doo, an’ Mary Drab, an’ Beanie Sma’, an’ Sally Daicle—naething but “marriet,” “marriet;” and here’s puir me and the cat, leading a single life until this blessed day. Hochhey! isn’t it very angersome, sir?”
“It is really a case o’ great distress, when one thinks o’ your worth, Miss Brodie,” said I, pathetically; “and if I did not happen to be engaged myself, it’s impossible to say, but—”
“Ay, there it is!” exclaimed Miss Peggy, “there it is! Every decent, sensible man like you, that sees what I am, are just married—married themselves, and tied up. An’ so I may just sit here, and blaw my fingers ower the fire wi’ the cat. Hoch-hey!”
“But surely, Miss Brodie,” said I, “you did not use due diligence in time and season, or you would not now be left at this sorrowful pass?”
“I let the sharpshooter times slip out o’ my fingers, like a stupid simpleton, as I say; but no woman could have been more diligent than I hae been o’ late years, an’ a’ to no purpose. Haven’t I walked the Trongate? Haven’t I walked the Green? Haven’t I gone to a’ the tea-drinkings within five miles, where I could get a corner for mysel? Haven’t I gone to the kirk three times every Sunday, forby fast days, thanksgiving days, and evening preachings? Haven’t I attended a’ the Bible meetings, and missionary meetings, forby auxiliary societies, and branch associations? Wasn’t I a member of a’ the ladies’ committees, and penny-a-week societies, frae Cranston Hill to the East Toll? Didn’t I gang about collecting pennies, in cauld March weather, climbin’ stairs, and knocking at doors like a beggar, until the folk were like to put me out, an’ the vera weans on the stairs used to pin clouts to our tails, an’ ca’ us penny-a-week auld maids? Eh! that was a sair business, sir, an’ little thanks we got; an’ I got the chilblains in the feet wi’ the cauld, that keepit me frae sleep for three weeks.”
“It’s really lamentable; but I should have thought that the saintly plan was a good one.”