My Man Sandy | Page 9

heaven as weel's here, if ever I get there. I cud never pet aff my time
gaen aboot doin' naething an' that's whaur I differ frae the minister."
"But I think we're tell'd that there'll be mony mansions," says I; "an' nae
doubt there'll be mony kinds o' occupation too. There'll be a chance
for's a' bein' happy in oor ain wey, I'm thinkin'. I only wiss we was sure
we wud a' get there."
"Ah, Bawbie, lassie, that's whaur you're wyzer than the whole dollop
o's," says the Smith. "We're takin' up oor heids aboot a place we may
never get till; an', I'm thinkin', it'll be better for's a' to stick in here an'
do what's fair an' richt. If we mak' shure o' that, we may lave a' the rest
till a higher hand."
Mistress Kenawee landit in to see what had come ower Dauvid, an',
dear me, when I lookit at the tnock, here, it was five meenits to ten.

We'd been argeyin' that muckle aboot eternity, that we'd forgotten
aboot the time a'thegither.

V.
MISTRESS MIKAVER'S TEA PARTY.
I'll swag, mind ye, but the men's no' far wrang when they say that
weemin have most dreedfu' lang tongues. Dod, mind ye, but it's ower
troo; it's ower troo!
Mistress Mikaver wud hae me alang to a cup o' tea lest Teysday
efternune; so I gae my hands an' face a bit dicht, an' threw on my
Sabbath goon, an' awa' I gaed. I fell in wi' Mistress Kenawee on the
road, an', gin we landit, there was a gaitherin' o' wives like what you
wudda seen ony mornin' at the Mossy Wall afore the noo water supply
was brocht in aboot the toon.
Mysie Meldrum was there wi' a braw noo print frock on. Hand your
tongue! Five bawbees the yaird! I saw the very marrows o't in Hantin
the draper's remmindar winda. But, faigs, Mysie was prood o't, an' nae
mistak. It was made i' the first o' fashion, a' drawn i' the briest, an'
shuders as big's smokit hams, wi' Mysie's bit facie lookin' oot atween
them, like's she was sittin' in an auld-fashioned easychair. But, of
coorse, I never bather my heid aboot what wey fowk's dressed.
Mistress Mollison was juist as assorted as uswal. She'd as muckle on as
wudda dressed twa or three folk, an' she was ill-cled at that.
"What'll hae come o' her seal jeckit?" says Mistress Kenawee to me, wi'
a nudge, when we gaed ben the hoose to get oor things aff; but I said
naething, for, the fac' o' the maitter is, I thocht Mistress Kenawee a fell
sicht hersel'. There was a great target o' black braid hingin' frae the tail
o' her goon, an' the back seam o' her body was riven in twa-three places.
An' if the truth be tell'd, I wasna very braw mysel'. Thinks I to mysel',
as I've heard the Gairner's wife say, them that hae riven breeks had
better keep their seats.

Gairner Winton's wife was there, lookin' as happy an' impident as
uswal; an' Ribekka Steein cam' in juist as me an' Mistress Kenawee
were gettin' set doon amon' the rest. Mistress Mikaver was quite my
leddy, an' was rinnin' frae the teen to the tither o's juist terriple anxious
to mak's a' at hame, an' makin's a' meesirable. I windered that the cratur
didna gae heidlang ower some o' the stules she had sittin' aboot; but she
got through wi' a' her fairlies an' the tea maskit withoot ony mishap, an'
we got a' set roond the table for oor tea.
Mistress Mikaver had oot her mither's cheenie, an' a braw tablecloth, o'
her mither's ain spinnin' she tell'd's. She has an awfu' hoosefu' o' stech,
Mistress Mikaver; press efter press, an' kist efter kist fu'. I ashure you,
the lass that gets young Alek 'ill no want for providin'.
She had a'thing in fine order; it was a perfeck treat to sit doon; an' I
noticed a braw noo pentin' o' the scone-baker hung abune the chumla.
He maun hae left a fell feck o' bawbees, for I ashure ye his weeda has a
fu' hoose, an' aye plenty to do wi'.
Weel-a-weel, we had oor tea, as I was tellin' ye, an' a fine cup it was.
Eh, it's a nice thing a cup o' fresh tea. There's naething I like better; it's
that refreshin', especially if you've somebody to crack till when you're
at it. An', I'll swag, we didna weary for want o' crackin' that efternune.
The Gairner's wife an' Mysie Meldrum are twa awfu' tagues for tongue;
an' some o' the rest o's werena far to the hent, I'm dootin'.
"Noo, juist see an' mak' yersels a' at hame," said Mistress Mikaver,