Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush | Page 7

was worth a' the toil and trouble. First
in the Humanity and first in the Greek, sweepit the field, Lord preserve
us. A' can hardly believe it. Eh, I was feared o' thae High School lads.
They had terrible advantages. Maisters frae England, and tutors, and
whatna', but Drumtochty carried aff the croon. It'll be fine reading in
the papers--
Humanity.--First Prize (and Medal), George Howe, Drumtochty,
Perthshire.
Greek.--First Prize (and Medal), George Howe, Drumtochty,
Perthshire."
"It'll be michty," cried Whinnie, now fairly on fire.
"And Philosophy and Mathematics to come. Geordie's no bad at Euclid,
I'll wager he'll be first there too. When he gets his hand in there's
naething he's no fit for wi' time. My ain laddie--and the Doctor's--we
maunna forget him--it's his classics he hes, every book o' them. The
Doctor 'ill be lifted when he comes back on Saturday. A'm thinkin' we'll
hear o't on Sabbath. And Drumsheugh, he'll be naither to had nor bind
in the kirk-yard. As for me, I wad na change places wi' the Duke o'
Athole," and Domsie shook the table to its foundation.
Then he awoke, as from a dream, and the shame of boasting that shuts
the mouths of self-respecting Scots descended upon him.
"But this is fair nonsense. Ye'll no mind the havers o' an auld dominie."

He fell back on a recent roup, and would not again break away,
although sorely tempted by certain of Whinnie's speculations.
When I saw him last, his coat-tails were waving victoriously as he
leaped a dyke on his way to tell our Drumtochty Maecenas that the
judges knew their business.

III
IN MARGET'S GARDEN
The cart track to Whinnie Knowe was commanded by a gable window,
and Whinnie boasted that Marget had never been taken unawares.
Tramps, finding every door locked, and no sign of life anywhere, used
to express their mind in the "close," and return by the way they came,
while ladies from Kildrummie, fearful lest they should put Mrs. Howe
out, were met at the garden gate by Marget in her Sabbath dress, and
brought into a set tea as if they had been invited weeks before.
Whinnie gloried most in the discomfiture of the Tory agent, who had
vainly hoped to coerce him in the stack yard without Marget's presence,
as her intellectual contempt for the Conservative party knew no
bounds.
"Sall she saw him slip aff the road afore the last stile, and wheep roond
the fit o' the gairden wa' like a tod (fox) aifter the chickens.
"'It's a het day, Maister Anderson,' says Marget frae the gairden, lookin'
doon on him as calm as ye like. 'Yir surely no gaein' to pass oor hoose
without a gless o' milk?'
"Wud ye believe it, he wes that upset he left withoot sayin' 'vote,' and
Drumsheugh telt me next market that his langidge aifterwards cudna be
printed."
When George came home for the last time, Marget went back and
forward all afternoon from his bedroom to the window, and hid herself

beneath the laburnum to see his face as the cart stood before the stile. It
told her plain what she had feared, and Marget passed through her
Gethsemane with the gold blossoms falling on her face. When their
eyes met, and before she helped him down, mother and son understood.
"Ye mind what I told ye, o' the Greek mothers, the day I left. Weel, I
wud hae liked to have carried my shield, but it wasna to be, so I've
come home on it." As they went slowly up the garden walk, "I've got
my degree, a double first, mathematics and classics."
"Ye've been a gude soldier, George, and faithfu'."
"Unto death, a'm dootin, mother."
"Na," said Marget, "unto life."
Drumtochty was not a heartening place in sickness, and Marget, who
did not think our thoughts, endured much consolation at her
neighbour's hands. It is said that in cities visitors congratulate a patient
on his good looks, and deluge his family with instances of recovery.
This would have seemed to us shallow and unfeeling, besides being a
"temptin' o' Providence," which might not have intended to go to
extremities, but on a challenge of this kind had no alternative. Sickness
was regarded as a distinction tempered with judgment, and favoured
people found it difficult to be humble. I always thought more of Peter
MacIntosh when the mysterious "tribble" that needed the Perth doctor
made no difference in his manner, and he passed his snuff box across
the seat before the long prayer as usual, but in this indifference to
privileges Peter was exceptional.
You could never meet Kirsty Stewart on equal terms, although she was
quite affable to any one who knew his place.
"Ay," she said, on my respectful allusion to her experience,