The Underworld Part 24

"Weel, I dinna ken whether she has gane wrang or not; but she has ran awa', an' it is gey suspeecious conduct that for ony la.s.sie that is weel-doin'. She is jist like the rest of folk."

"It canna' be true," said Mrs. Sinclair, still unable to believe the news. "I canna' take it in."

"Ay, but it is true," persisted her neighbor with a.s.surance. "For I tell you, it was her ain mother what telt me hersel'. It seems she has been missing since the day afore yesterday. She gaed awa' in the afternoon to see her mither, an' as she hadna been keepin' very weel for a day or two an' no comin' back that night, Mrs. Rundell jist thought that Jenny had keepit her at home for a holiday. But she didna turn up yesterday, an'

thinkin' maybe that the la.s.sie had turned worse, Mrs. Rundell sent owre word jist the noo, to ask how she was keepin'; an' Jenny was fair thunder-struck when the man came to the door to ask. Puir body! Jenny's awfu' puttin' aboot owre the matter. I hope," she added, with the first show of sympathy, "that naething has happened to the la.s.sie. That wad be awfu'!"

"Dear keep us!" exclaimed Nellie. "I hope nothing has happened to her."

"G.o.d knows!" replied Mrs. Johnstone piously, for want of something else to say. "It's awfu'!"

"Do they ken naething at a' aboot her at Rundells'?" again enquired Mrs.

Sinclair.

"No' a thing they ken, ony mair than you or me. She left her bits o'

claes, jist as if she meant to come back. Her new frock was in her drawer jist as she had put it by efter tryin' it on. An' a braw frock it is. She has nothing except what she was wearin' at the time she gaed oot. Her guid boots jist yince on her feet are in her room, a' cleaned jist as she took them off the last time she had them on. I canna'

believe it yet. My! it's awfu'! It'll be a sair, sair heart her faither'll hae when he hears about it. He had aye an' awfu' wark wi'

Mysie, an' thought the world o' her. If he got Mysie richt he ay seemed to think that a' else was richt. I hope nae harm has come to her. I dinna ken what the world's comin' to at a', I'm sure? My, it's awfu', isn't it?" and Mrs. Johnstone went out to spread the news, leaving Mrs.

Sinclair more mystified and astonished than ever she had been in her life.

Mysie missing! She could not understand it, and always she tried to crush back the suggestion which was plainly evident in Leezie's statement that Mysie had "gang wrang." It could not be that, for Mysie was never known to have dealings with anyone likely to betray her like that. It was a hopeless puzzle altogether, and she could not account for it.

It was nearing "lousing time" and Mrs. Sinclair was busy getting the dinner ready, and water boiled to wash the men coming in from the pit, and she wondered how Robert would take the news.

She knew, having guessed, as most mothers do guess, that Mysie held a sacred corner in Robert's heart; though noticing the silence during the last two weeks, and his renewed attention to books and study, she wondered if anything had come between Mysie and himself. Had he at last spoken to her and been discouraged? She could hardly harbor that thought, for she felt also that Mysie's heart enshrined but one man, and that was Robert. Yet what could be the meaning of all this mystery?

It was true Mysie and Robert had never walked out as young men and women of their cla.s.s do; but she knew in their hearts each regarded the other with very warm affection, and thinking thus she worked about the house preparing things and running occasionally over to Maitland's house, to see that the dinner was cooking all right, and giving little attentions wherever they were needed, in Mrs. Maitland's absence.

She did not mention the news to Robert when he came in, but she watched him furtively as she worked about the house getting the water into the tub for him to wash, before placing the dinner on the table; but she guessed from his face that he must have already heard of it on his way home.

He was silent as he pulled off his rough blue flannel s.h.i.+rt and stooping over the well-filled tub of hot water, he began to lave the water over his arms, and the upper part of his body.

At last, Mrs. Sinclair could hold herself in no longer, and looking keenly at the half-naked young man as he straightened himself, having washed the coal-dust from his hands and arms, he began to rub his breast and as much of his back as he could reach, she said, "Did you hear aboot Mysie, Rob?"

"Ay," he returned simply, trying to hide his agitation and his blanching face. "I heard that she had disappeared frae her place, an' that nae news o' her could be got. Is it true, mither?"

"Ay, it's true, Rob," she replied. "But I hinna got ony richt waye o' it yet. Jenny's awa' owre to Rundell Hoose, an' we'll no' ken onything till she comes back. It's an awfu' business, an' will pit her faither an'

mither a guid lot aboot. I wonder what'll hae ta'en her."

"It's hard to ken," he replied in a non-committal voice. "Hae you ony idea, mither, as to what has brought this aboot?"

"No, Rob, I canna' say; but folks' tongues will soon be busy, I hae nae doot, an' there will be a lot o' clip-clash, an' everybody kennin'

nothing, will ken the right way o't, an' every yin will hae a different story to tell."

"Ay, I hae nae doot," he said, again stooping over the tub flinging some water over his head, and beginning to rub the soap into a fine lather upon his hair. "Everybody will ken the right wye o' it, and will claver and gossip, when they wad 'a be better to mind their ain affairs, an'

let ither folk alane."

His mother did not speak for a little, but went on with her work. There was something on her mind about which she wanted to speak, and she bustled about and washed, and clattered the dishes; and every plate and spoon, as they were laid dripping from the basin of warm water, plainly indicated that something troubled her.

Finally, when the last steaming dish had been laid upon the table, and she had begun to wipe them dry, she cleared her throat, and in a somewhat strained sort of voice asked, "Dae you ken, Rob, onything aboot Mysie?"

"No, mither," he replied at once, as he ceased rubbing the white foaming lather on his hair, and again straightened himself up to look at her, as she spoke; his head looking as if a three inch fall of snow had settled upon it, giving the black dirty face and the clean eyes s.h.i.+ning through the dust, a weird strange appearance. "What makes you ask that?"

"Oh, I dinna ken, Rob, but jist thought you micht hae kent something,"

she answered evasively.

"No, I dinna ken onything at all aboot her, mither," he said. "If I had kent onything, dae you think I'd hae kept quiet?"

"Oh, I dinna mean that, Rob," she replied with relief in her voice, "but I thought that you might hae heard something. That Leezie Johnstone was in here the day, an' you ken hoo she talks. She was makin' oot that Mysie had gane wrang, and had ran awa' tae hide it."

"Leezie Johnstone had little to do sayin' onything o' the kind," he said with some heat in his voice. "There never was a dirty coo in the byre but it liket a neighbor. I suppose she'll be thinkin' that a' la.s.ses were like her. These kind of folk hae dam'd strange ideas aboot things.

They get it into their heads it is wrang to do certain things when folk are no married, but the cloak of marriage flung aboot them mak's the same things richt. They hinna the brains o' a sewer rat in their noddles, the dam'd hypocrites that they are!"

"Dinna swear, Rob!" said Mrs. Sinclair, interrupting him. "Do you ken,"

she went on, her astonishment plainly evident in her face and voice, "that is the first time I ever heard you swear in a' my life!"

"Well, mither, I am sorry; but I couldna' help it. Folk like that get my temper up gey quick; because they get it into their heids that marriage makes them virtuous, even though they may be guilty o' greater excesses after than they were before marriage."

"Ay, that's true, Rob!" she agreed. "But it is a sad business a'

thegether. I wonder what has come owre the bit la.s.sie. G.o.d knows where she may be?"

But Robert was silent, and no matter how much she tried to get him to speak, he would not be drawn into conversation, but answered merely in short grunts; but she could see that he was very much disturbed at what had happened. After a few days the sensation seemed to pa.s.s from the minds of most of the villagers, who soon found something new to occupy them, in connection with their own affairs.

About this time much interest was being manifested in mining circles.

The labor movement was beginning to shape itself into solidarity towards political as well as industrial activity. Robert Smillie and the late J.

Keir Hardie, and many other tireless spirits, had succeeded in molding together the newly created labor party, infecting it with an idealism which had hitherto not been so apparent, and this work was making a deep impression upon the minds of the workers, especially among the younger men.

The Miners' Union had been linked up into national organizations; and a consolidating influence was at work molding the workers generally, and the miners particularly, imbuing them with a newer hope, a greater enthusiasm and a wider vision.

About a fortnight after the news of Mysie's disappearance, Keir Hardie paid a visit to Lowwood, and a large crowd gathered to hear him in the village hall. Smillie also was advertised to speak, and great interest was manifested, and much criticism pa.s.sed by the miners.

"I don't give in wi' this dam'd political business," said Tam Donaldson, who was frankly critical. "I've aye stood up for Smillie, but I dinna'

like being dragged intae this Socialist movement. A dam'd fine nest o'

robbers an' work-shy vermin. Trade Union officials should attend tae Trade Union affairs. That's what we pay them for. But it looks to me as if they were a' that dam'd busy trying to get intae Parliament, thet they hinna time to look after oor affairs."

"I'm kind o' suspeecious aboot it mysel', Tam," said Robert quietly, as they made their way to the hall that night. "I'm no' sure jist yet as to what this Socialism is, it looks frae the papers to be a rotten kind o'

thing an' I'm no' on wi' it. But I'll wait an' hear what Hardie an'

Smillie say aboot it, afore a' make up my mind."

"To h.e.l.l wi' them an' their Socialism," said Tam with some heat. "I want a s.h.i.+llin' or twa on my day. It's a' yin d.a.m.n to me hoo mony wives they gie me. I canna' keep the yin I hae. What the h.e.l.l wad a workin' man dae wi' three wives? An' they tell me they're goin' to abolish religion too.

Not that I'm a religious man mysel', but I'm d.a.m.n'd if I'd let them interfere wi' it. If I want religion I've a guid richt to hae it; an'

forby, if they abolish religion, hoo wad folk do wi' the funerals? I can see hoo they'll do wi' marriages, for there's to be nane. You've to get your wife changed every two-three years, an' the weans brought up by the State as they call it. But the puirhouse is a dam'd cauld step-mother, an' I'd be up against that."

Thus discussing the subject, they reached the hall to find it packed, everyone being keen to see and hear this man, who was making such an uproar in the country with his advocacy of Socialism.

Robert was chairman, and had labored hard to prepare a few remarks with which to open the meeting. He wanted to be non-committal, and his reading and self-teaching had been of immense service to him. His mother's influence in the molding of his character, unconsciously to himself, had made his mind just the sort of soil for the quick rooting of the seed to be sown that night.

It was certainly a great occasion. Robert thought as he looked at this man, that he had never seen anyone who so typefied the spirit of independence in his bearing. His figure was straight, the eyes fearless, yet kindly and gentle; but the proud erect head, the straight stiff back which seemed to say "I bend to no one" impressed Robert more than anything else in all his make up.