Courtin' Christina

“Ye see, Maister Purdie,” John was explaining, “Macgreegor’s busy the noo at a job in the west-end, an’ that’s the reason he’s late for his tea.”

“’Deed, ay. It’s a lang road for him to come hame,” said the old man. “An’ is he still likin’ the pentin’ trade?”

“Ay, ay. An’ he’s gettin’ on splendid――jist splendid!”

“It’s time enough to be sayin’ that,” Lizzie interposed. “He’s no’ ony furder on nor a lad o’ his age ought to be. I’m no’ sayin’ he’s daein’ badly, fayther; but there’s nae sense in boastin’ aboot what’s jist or’nar’?――Na, Jimsie! it’s no’ time for jeelly yet. Tak’ what Jeannie gi’es ye, laddie.――Ay, the least said――――”

“But his employer’s pleased wi’ him; he tell’t me as much, wife,” said John. “An’ if ye compare Macgreegor wi’ that young scamp, Wullie Thomson――――”

“Oh, if ye compare a man wi’ a monkey, I daresay it’s no’ sae bad for the man. But, really, John――――”

“Maw, where was the man wi’ the monkey?” enquired Jimsie through bread and butter.

“I’ll tell ye after,” whispered Jeannie, and forthwith set her mind to improvise a story involving a human being and his ancestor.

“It’s easy seen,” said Gran’paw, once more consulting his watch, “that Macgreegor’s workin’ for his wages. Surely he’ll be gettin’ overtime the nicht. I hope his employer’s a kind man.”

“I’ve nae doot aboot that,” Lizzie returned. “He gi’es Macgreegor money for the car when he’s workin’ in the west-end.”

“That’s a proper maister!” cried Mr. Purdie, while John smiled as much as to say, “Ay! he kens Macgreegor’s value!”

“An’ I’m thinkin’,” Lizzie continued, “that Macgreegor walks hame an’ keeps the pennies to buy ceegarettes.”

“What?” exclaimed the old man; “has the laddie commenced the smokin’ a’ready?”

“Oh, naething to speak aboot,” said John, a trifle apologetically. “They commence earlier than they did in your day, I suppose, Maister Purdie. No’ that I wud smoke a ceegarette if I was paid for ’t.”

“He’s far ower young for the smokin’,” observed Lizzie.

“_I_ can smoke,” declared Jimsie indiscreetly. Jeannie pressed his arm.

John guffawed, Gran’paw looked amused until Lizzie demanded: “What’s that ye’re sayin’, Jimsie?”

“But I’m no’ a reg’lar smoker,” mumbled Jimsie, crestfallen.

“Ay,” said John, with a jocular wink at his father-in-law, “ye’re feart ye singe yer whiskers, ma mannie.”

“John,” said Lizzie, “it’s naething to joke aboot.... Jimsie, if ever I catch ye at the smokin’, I’ll stop yer Seturday penny, an’ gi’e ye castor ile instead. D’ye hear?”

“Hoots!” cried Gran’paw, “that’s a terrible severe-like punishment, Lizzie!”

“I wud rayther tak’ ile twicet an’ get ma penny,” quoth Jimsie.

“Hear, hear!” from John.

Lizzie was about to speak when the bell rang.

Jeannie slipped from her chair. “I’ll gang, Maw,” she said, and went out.

“It’s Macgreegor,” remarked John. “Ha’e ye kep’ his haddie hot for him, Lizzie?”

“What for wud I dae that?” retorted Mrs. Robinson in a tone of irony, going over to the oven and extracting a covered dish.

“Haw!” laughed John. “I kent ye had something there!”

“What for did ye ask then?”

She came back to the table as her son entered, a very perceptible odour of his trade about him――an odour which she still secretly disliked though nearly three years had gone since her first whiff of it. “What kep’ ye?” she enquired, pleasantly enough.

It is possible that Macgregor’s dutiful greeting to his grandfather prevented his answering the question. He appeared honestly glad to see the old man; yet compared with his own the latter’s greeting was boisterous. He returned his father’s smile, glanced at his mother who was engaged in filling his cup, winked at his young brother, and took his place at the table, between the two men.

“Ye’ll be wearied,” remarked John.

“No’ extra,” he replied, stretching his tired legs under cover of the table.

“Did ye walk?” his mother asked, passing him his tea.

“Ay.”

“It’ll be three mile,” said John.

Jeannie came from the fire and put a fresh slice of toast on his plate. He nodded his thanks, and she went to her place satisfied and assisted Jimsie who had got into difficulties with a jam sandwich that oozed all round.

“What way did ye no’ tak’ the car, laddie?” enquired Lizzie.

“I’d as sune walk,” he replied, shortly.

“It’s fine to save the siller――eh, Macgreegor?” said Mr. Purdie.