The Little Minister | Page 6

"Come quick, mother, and you'll see him."
Margaret reached the door in time to see a street musician flying from
Gavin and his friends. "Did you take stock of him, mother?" the boy
asked when he reappeared with the mark of a muddy stick on his back.
"He's a Papist!--a sore sight, mother, a sore sight. We stoned him for
persecuting the noble Martyrs."
"When Gavin was twelve he went to the university, and also got a place
in a shop as errand boy. He used to run through the streets between his
work and his classes. Potatoes and salt fish, which could then be got at
two pence the pound if bought by the half- hundred weight, were his
food. There was not always a good meal for two, yet when Gavin
reached home at night there was generally something ready for him,
and Margaret had supped "hours ago." Gavin's hunger urged him to fall
to, but his love for his mother made him watchful.

"What did you have yourself, mother?" he would demand suspiciously.
"Oh, I had a fine supper, I assure you."
"What had you?"
"I had potatoes, for one thing."
"And dripping?"
"You may be sure."
"Mother, you're cheating me. The dripping hasn't been touched since
yesterday."
"I dinna--don't--care for dripping--no much."
Then would Gavin stride the room fiercely, a queer little figure.
"Do you think I'll stand this, mother? Will I let myself be pampered
with dripping and every delicacy while you starve?"
"Gavin, I really dinna care for dripping."
"Then I'll give up my classes, and we can have butter."
"I assure you I'm no hungry. It's different wi' a growing laddie."
"I'm not a growing laddie," Gavin would say, bitterly; "but, mother, I
warn you that not another bite passes my throat till I see you eating
too."
So Margaret had to take her seat at the table, and when she said "I can
eat no more," Gavin retorted sternly, "Nor will I, for fine I see through
you."
These two were as one far more than most married people, and, just as
Gavin in his childhood reflected his mother, she now reflected him.
The people for whom she sewed thought it was contact with them that

had rubbed the broad Scotch from her tongue, but she Was only
keeping pace with Gavin. When she was excited the Harvie words
came back to her, as they come back to me. I have taught the English
language all my life, and I try to write it, but everything I say in this
book I first think to myself in the Doric. This, too, I notice, that in
talking to myself I am broader than when gossiping with the farmers of
the glen, who send their children to me to learn English, and then jeer
at them if they say "old lights" instead of "auld lichts."
To Margaret it was happiness to sit through the long evenings sewing,
and look over her work at Gavin as he read or wrote or recited to
himself the learning of the schools. But she coughed every time the
weather changed, and then Gavin would start.
"You must go to your bed, mother," he would say, tearing himself from
his books; or he would sit beside her and talk of the dream that was
common to both--a dream of a manse where Margaret was mistress and
Gavin was called the minister. Every night Gavin was at his mother's
bedside to wind her shawl round her feet, and while he did it Margaret
smiled.
"Mother, this is the chaff pillow you've taken out of my bed, and given
me your feather one."
"Gavin, you needna change them. I winna have the feather pillow."
"Do you dare to think I'll let you sleep on chaff? Put up your head.
Now, is that soft?"
"It's fine. I dinna deny but what I sleep better on feathers. Do you mind,
Gavin, you bought this pillow for me the moment you got your bursary
money?"
The reserve that is a wall between many of the Scottish poor had been
broken down by these two. When he saw his mother sleeping happily,
Gavin went back to his work. To save the expense of a lamp, he would
put his book almost beneath the dying fire, and, taking the place of the
fender, read till he was shivering with cold.

"Gavin, it is near morning, and you not in your bed yet! What are you
thinking about so hard?"
"Oh, mother, I was wondering if the time would ever come when I
would be a minister, and you would have an egg for your breakfast
every morning."
So the years passed, and soon Gavin would be a minister. He had now
sermons to prepare, and every one of them