Inchbracken Part 28

'Ay! What is't ye ken, Tibbie?'

'Aweel! he has gien me siller like the fine gentleman he is! An' me no seekin't frae him either.'

'An' hoo was that, Tibbie?'

'He heard tell I was a lanesome widdie an' no weel aff, an' he cam to speer after me. An' he out wi' his siller an' gied it til me, an' me no seekin't, mind! An' no the gate ye wad fling a bawbee til a beggar, or a bane til a dug; but just like's he was a man, an' me a woman made o' flesh an' bluid like himsel'.'

'Ay? But wha's yon wi' Jean, coming danderin' alang at this time o'

day. I maun gie that la.s.sie a bit o' my mind about a' this galavantin'. We'll be haein' the folk's tongues waggin' after _her_ next,' with a mischievous glance at Tibbie; but the latter's eyes were fixed on Jean's companion.

'She's a gude bairn, Jean,' Elspeth went on, 'an' rael mindfu' o' her granny. There's ane o' my kye like to gang frae her milk, an' I can do naething wi' her, but Jean's a grand milker, an' she comes ower ilka day an' milks the puir beast hersel'. I'm thinkin', yon chield's comin' up here wi' her, an' if it's no that auld sneckdrawer Joseph Smiley! I'm thinkin' we'll be for haein' a waddin' here afore lang; but gin I was Jean, it's no a s.h.i.+lpet auld tike like yon wad be the lad, an' mair to wale amang. But it's Jean's waddin' ye see an' no mine, sae she beut to wale her ain ground; an' gin she brews gude yale, she'll drink the better. But sit ye still!'

Tibbie was rising to go. 'It's time I was hame,' she said. 'But I'll gie a look till yer coo afore I gang. Ye ken I'm skilly on kye! or sae the Inchbracken folk thinks. Bide still an' hae yer crack wi' Jean.

I'se find my road t'ey byre mysel'!'

Tibbie's wrath was aflame against Joseph. She dared not trust herself in his presence, with Elspeth and Jean for audience or chorus in the scene that might follow, so she stole off to the byre before the young people could reach the brow of the hill. Their eyes having been engrossed with each other, they had not observed her while they were still at a distance, and Joseph was not aware how near she was, or his heart would have failed him.

Tibbie placed herself conveniently to overhear the conversation, and as usual with eavesdroppers, heard little that could gratify her feelings.

'Behave yersel', Joseph Smiley,' were the first words that reached her ear, spoken with energy, 'or I'se gar yer lugs dirl! Ye muckle calf!

I'se hae nane o' yer slaverin' an' kissin', sae stand aff! Wha gae ye the last ane til, I winder?'

'I gae the last til yer ain bonny sel' last nicht, Jean. Think ye I'd let ony body--'

'Ye leein' rascal! Tak ye that!' followed by a resounding crack, as though a palm and a cheek had come in violent contact.

'Od, woman! That's sair!'

'I'se gie ye a harder skelp nor that next time, sae mind yer tongue!'

There were sounds of scuffling after this, but eventually they were calmed by Elspeth's.

'Whisht, bairns! Behave yersels! Ye kenna wha micht be hearkenin'. An'

what's yer news, Joseph? Hae ye nae cracks to divert a lane auld body, forby daffin' wi' Jean? Is there naething steerin' e'y glen ava?'

'There's plenty steerin', granny! Muckle din, but aiblins little 'oo, as the dei'l said whan he sc.r.a.pit the soo.'

'Mind what ye're sayin', Joseph Smiley! She's no' _your_ granny, she's mines; an' what's mair, gin ye dinna talc yersel' up, she'll ne'er be yours ava! Sae dinna let yer tongue wag ower soople!'

'Be quiet, Jean, ye fechtin' hempie, an' let the man speak! I'm juist wearyin' to hear the news. An' what's a' the din for, Joseph?'

'It's just about the minister an' his bairn, an' his carryin's on amang the la.s.ses.'

'Ay? An' is't a' true, think ye?'

'Wha kens? The lad's but young yet, an' the la.s.s is no that ill faured. The Kirk Session's taen't up, an' the Presbytery, an' there'll be sair wark afore a''s dune.'

'An' what'll be dune wi' them, think ye, Joseph?'

'Oo! The minister '11 be peuten oot, nae doubt o' that, gin a' 'at's said be true. An' the puir quine, she beut to be sotten e'y cuttie stule, an' be rebuket afore the hale congregation. Hech! but it's weel for Angus Tirpie he's no t'ey fore this day to see his dochter come to sic shame. An' I'm wae for the la.s.s hersel'. There's naebody wud hae thocht it o' her; but she's a randie auld tinkler yon mither o' her's, an' it's sma' winder 'at them she had the guidin' o' suld come to harm.'

Tibbie clenched her teeth, and seized a heather besom leaning near her. She could scarcely contain herself, and would gladly have broken the slanderer's head; but the women, his companions, would be sure to side with him either by words or blows, seeing it was but another woman's character that was in question! And then the after-talk in the glen! Naturally she heard less than other people, but still she had a candid friend or two, as who has not? and the averted looks of the neighbours when she appeared gave full confirmation of all the candid friends had to say. She dared not furnish new food for talk. Turning round, she hurried away, choosing a path which sheltered her from the view of Elspeth and the rest, and vowing bitter vengeance on Joseph Smiley's treacherous head.

Home she hurried with panting speed. Her perturbed mind deprived of other utterance, vented itself in tumultuous motion, and by the time she reached her cottage she was comparatively calm. She unlocked her door, entered, revived her fire, and sat down to meditate on revenge: but not for long. As Mr. Geddie and his companions were coming out from their interview with Roderick, Tibbie was pa.s.sing homewards.

Ebenezer, discontented with the result of their mission, and foreboding diminished honour at his own fireside from her who acted Little Conscience there, and had kept him to his duty through years of wedded life, with the whipcracks of her stinging tongue,--Ebenezer saw her, and proposed that they should follow her home, and 'deal' with her as they had meant to do when they visited her earlier in the day.

Mr. Geddie consented, 'and I take it as a token for good,' he added, 'that we have seen her returning home at the very time we had given up hope of being able to find her.'

It was not long, therefore, before Tibbie's meditations were interrupted by the entrance of the inquisitors. They saluted her but briefly, and seated themselves on such chairs and stools as appeared, without waiting for much invitation, and disregarding Tibbie's enquiry of 'What's yer wull?' Mr. Geddie opened his book, lifted up his voice and held forth. It was a discourse on the vanity of concealment in the matter of sin, and an exhortation to confession as some measure of atonement, and the first step to repentance. Having concluded, he fixed his eyes on her and sat waiting to see what effect his words would have on her moral nature. Apparently they had none.

'Do you know, my woman, what brings us here today?'

'The very thing I hae been wantin' ye to tell me.'

'Where is your daughter?'

'What's yer wyll wi' my dochter?'

'Behave yersel', Tibbie Tirpie!' said Peter. 'Ye're no blate to speak that gate til a gentleman far less a minister.'

'I see little signs o' the _gentleman!_ Stappin' richt in ower o' my house, an' never wi' yer leave, gude wife,' an' just settin' himsel'

down, an' syne t'ey preaching'! Wad ye daar noo, my birkie, to stap that gate intil my Leddy Drysdale's parlour? I'm no thinkin' 't! Do ye think a puir body maun aye be like a cadger's tike, 'at ilka gowk can gie the ither kick til? An' then ne'er venture to bite? Gin I had mair siller, ye wad tak mair tent! An' as for my dochter, just mind what ye're after! gin ye daar say an ill word o' her I'se hae ye up afore the s.h.i.+rra, an' I'se hae there twa freends o' yours for witnesses against ye. I hae some notion o' the ill tales they hae been tellin'

through the glen, an' I'se gar them swear afore the s.h.i.+rra against ye for the very tales they hae telled ye themsel's, sae tak ye tent! Them 'at lie doon wi' dugs, rise up wi' fleas! An' it's little worth company ye hae been keepin', for a' their holy sough an' their lang faces. They'll rin round spyin' an' keekin' intil ilka kale-pat but their ain. (It's no in Mig Prittie's kale-pat 'at Ebenezer there daar stick his neb, I'm thinkin'). An' syne they rin round wi' a curran clashes, swallin' ilka gowk's head wi' their clavers. But gin they dinna gie ower prankin' wi' my gude name an', my dochter's, I'se gie them something they're no lookin' for, an' they'll wuss they had steiket their jaws afore they meddled wi' Tibbie Tirpie!'

Wull ye no' whisht, an' hear til the man o' G.o.d? ye rantin' auld tinkler!' cried Peter. 'Ye hae a tongue 'at wad clip clouts!'

An' ye hae a conscience like a mill-door, for a' yer whingin','

retorted Tibbie, grown louder at the interruption. It wad set yer man o' G.o.d better nor bautherin' a puir auld wife, gin he wad dale wi'

_you_. Wi' yer saul, I mean, for he'll better leave the shop alane.

Echtpence the pund for saand frae the burn-side, is ower dear to pay, an' I hae coosten the last sugar at echtpence I gat frae ye t'ey hens!

It's no fit meat for christian folk!'

'Ye jad! But whaur gat _ye_ the siller to be buyin' sugar? That's just what we're comin' til!'

'I cam by't honest, an' that's mair nor ye can say for yer pose e'y savin's bank.'

'It was the waages o' sin, Tibbie, yon siller! an' that ye ken.'

'I tak you twa men to witness, what Peter Malloch has said! an' I'se hae the law o' him! An' there's plenty witness e'y glen forby, whan the time comes!'

'Alas! alas! poor woman!' cried Mr. Geddie, 'you are sinning with the high hand and brazening out your iniquity. Confession would better become you, and repentance, and public penitence before the church, for the public scandal you have brought on it.'

'Ay! an' the cuttie stule for them baith,' e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Peter as he made for the door, for Tibbie was reaching up for her porridge-stick on the shelf, and an onslaught seemed imminent. The other two followed without the ceremony of leave-taking, further 'dealing' with the enraged old woman, being manifestly out of the question. Slowly and disappointedly they wended back to the village, while Tibbie stood out in the road before her cottage shaking her fist and scolding at the top of her voice. Doubtless she had reason; but the wind caught up her words as they flew, and they never reached the ears of her retreating enemies.

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

_A CATECHIST_.