Robert Falconer | Page 6

the street, whence the wind had swept away

the snow, leaving it brown and bare, a spot of March in the middle of
January.
He heard the town drummer in the distance, and let the sound invade
his passive ears, till it crossed the opening of the street, and vanished
'down the town.'
'There's Dooble Sanny,' he said to himself--'wi' siccan cauld han's, 'at
he's playin' upo' the drum-heid as gin he was loupin' in a bowie (leaping
in a cask).'
Then he stood silent once more, with a look as if anything would be
welcome to break the monotony.
While he stood a gentle timorous tap came to the door, so gentle indeed
that Betty in the kitchen did not hear it, or she, tall and Roman-nosed as
she was, would have answered it before the long-legged dreamer could
have reached the door, though he was not above three yards from it. In
lack of anything better to do, Robert stalked to the summons. As he
opened the door, these words greeted him:
'Is Robert at--eh! it's Bob himsel'! Bob, I'm byous (exceedingly) cauld.'
'What for dinna ye gang hame, than?'
'What for wasna ye at the schuil the day?'
'I spier ae queston at you, and ye answer me wi' anither.'
'Weel, I hae nae hame to gang till.'
'Weel, and I had a sair heid (a headache). But whaur's yer hame gane
till than?'
'The hoose is there a' richt, but whaur my mither is I dinna ken. The
door's lockit, an' Jeames Jaup, they tell me 's tane awa' the key. I doobt
my mither's awa' upo' the tramp again, and what's to come o' me, the
Lord kens.'

'What's this o' 't?' interposed a severe but not unmelodious voice,
breaking into the conversation between the two boys; for the parlour
door had opened without Robert's hearing it, and Mrs. Falconer, his
grandmother, had drawn near to the speakers.
'What's this o' 't?' she asked again. 'Wha's that ye're conversin' wi' at the
door, Robert? Gin it be ony decent laddie, tell him to come in, and no
stan' at the door in sic a day 's this.'
As Robert hesitated with his reply, she looked round the open half of
the door, but no sooner saw with whom he was talking than her tone
changed. By this time Betty, wiping her hands in her apron, had
completed the group by taking her stand in the kitchen door.
'Na, na,' said Mrs. Falconer. 'We want nane sic-like here. What does he
want wi' you, Robert? Gie him a piece, Betty, and lat him gang.--Eh,
sirs! the callant hasna a stockin'-fit upo' 'im--and in sic weather!'
For, before she had finished her speech, the visitor, as if in terror of her
nearer approach, had turned his back, and literally showed her, if not a
clean pair of heels, yet a pair of naked heels from between the soles and
uppers of his shoes: if he had any stockings at all, they ceased before
they reached his ankles.
'What ails him at me?' continued Mrs. Falconer, 'that he rins as gin I
war a boodie? But it's nae wonner he canna bide the sicht o' a decent
body, for he's no used till 't. What does he want wi' you, Robert?'
But Robert had a reason for not telling his grandmother what the boy
had told him: he thought the news about his mother would only make
her disapprove of him the more. In this he judged wrong. He did not
know his grandmother yet.
'He's in my class at the schuil,' said Robert, evasively.
'Him? What class, noo?'
Robert hesitated one moment, but, compelled to give some answer, said,

with confidence,
'The Bible-class.'
'I thocht as muckle! What gars ye play at hide and seek wi' me? Do ye
think I dinna ken weel eneuch there's no a lad or a lass at the schuil but
's i' the Bible-class? What wants he here?'
'Ye hardly gae him time to tell me, grannie. Ye frichtit him.'
'Me fricht him! What for suld I fricht him, laddie? I'm no sic ferlie
(wonder) that onybody needs be frichtit at me.'
The old lady turned with visible, though by no means profound offence
upon her calm forehead, and walking back into her parlour, where
Robert could see the fire burning right cheerily, shut the door, and left
him and Betty standing together in the transe. The latter returned to the
kitchen, to resume the washing of the dinner-dishes; and the former
returned to his post at the window. He had not stood more than half a
minute, thinking what was to be done with his school-fellow deserted
of his mother, when the sound of a coach-horn drew his attention to the
right, down