My Man Sandy | Page 8

heart
wi' her in her bit coffinie than she left ahent her. A bonnie bit lassie she
was, Bawbie, as ye'll mind. She was juist seven past when she was taen
awa'; an' when I meet her again, I wud like her to be juist the same
bonnie bit lassokie that cam' in wi' her pawlie that Setarday efternune
an' tell'd me she had a sair heid--the henmist sair heid ever she was
genna hae. Ye see, lads, if Elsie was growin' aulder in heaven, she wud
be a woman nearhand twenty gin this time, an' she wudna be the same
to me ava." An' the Smith lookit into the heart o' the fire like's he had
tint something; an' I saw his een fill.
"That's the minister's wey o' lookin' at the thing too, I think," said the
Gairner; "but I canna juist fathom't, I maun admit."
"There's something in what the Smith says," said Bandy; "but if there's
to be nae growin' ony aulder i' the next world, there'll be some fowk 'ill

hae a gey trauchle. There was Mysie Wilkie's bairn that de'ed doon
there i' the Loan a fortnicht syne. It was a puir wammily-lookin' cratur,
an' was only but aucht days auld when it took bruntkadis an' closed,
juist in an 'oor or twa. Mysie, puir cratur, never kent. She was brainish
a' the time, an' she follow'd her bairnie twa days efter. D'ye mean to tell
me that Mysie 'ill be dwanged trailin' throo a' eternity wi' a bit bairnie
aucht days auld, an' it never gettin' even the lenth o' bein' doakit, lat
aleen growin' up to be able to tak' care o'ts sel? The thing's no
rizzenable."
"But there wud be plenty bit lassies to gie the bairn a hurl in a coach,"
said the Tailor. "I dinna see hoo Mysie cudna get redd o' her bairn for
an' oor noo an' than."
"But that wud juist be a dwang to the lassies, syne," answered Bandy.
"That's a thing I've often thocht aboot mysel'," says Sandy; "an' the
only wey I cud mak' it oot was that a'body in heaven 'ill be juist i' their
prime. I've thocht to mysel' that a' the men folk wud be, say, aboot
thirty-five 'ear auld, or atween that an' forty, an' the weemin mibby
fower or five 'ear younger."
"An' wud they be a' ae size, d'ye think?" says Stumpie Mertin.
Stumpie's a tailor, ye see, an' I suppose he'd been winderin' aboot hoo
he wud manish wi' the measurin'.
"I canna say naething aboot the size," says Sandy; "it's the auldness
we're taen up aboot i' the noo."
"Na, na, Sandy; your wey o't 'ill no' do ava," said the Smith. "There'll
be bairns an' auld fowk in heaven as weel's here. Auld fowk 'ill no' get
dune or dotal, like what they do i' this world, undootedly; but there'll be
young fowk for them to guide an' advise. It wud be a puir wey o' doin',
I'm thinkin', whaur naebody was wyzer than his neeper, an' whaur ye
wud never hae the chance o' doin' a freend a gude turn."
"It's past my comprehension," said the Gairner. "Maist fowk thinks it'll
be a braw place, whaur there'll be nae trauchle or trouble wi' onything;

but I doot we maun juist tak' the Bible for't, lads, an' hae faith that it'll
be a' richt, whatever wey it comes aboot."
"There's ae thing, though, that I dinna haud wi' the minister in ava,"
said the Smith. "I canna thole the idea o' great croods o' stoot men and
weemin daidlin' aboot a' day doin' naething but singin' hymes. I've
often thocht aboot that, an' raley, Sandy, I dinna think I cud be happy
onywey if I didna hae my studio an' my hammer wi' me; for I'm juist
meeserable when I'm hingin' aboot idle. As for singin', I canna sing a
single bum. It's no' like the thing ava for weel-faur'd fowk to do
naething but trail aboot sing-singin' week-in week-oot. It may do for
litlans, an' precentir budies, like Mertin here; but able-bodied fowk, wi'
a' their faculties, cudna pet up wi't for a week, lat aleen a' eternity."
Stumpie's an awfu' peppery budy, an' though the Smith leuch when he
made his joke at the tailor's precentin', Mertin got as raised as a wasp,
and he yattered back--"You'll maybe be better aff i' the ither place, wi'
your auld horse shune an' your smiddy reek, ye auld acowder----"
"Toot, toot, Mertin; dinna get angry," says the Smith. "It was but a joke,
man. I've nae doot that I wud hardly be i' the right place amon' angels
an' sic like billies. But I tell ye what it is, I maun wirk for my livin' in