The Scotch Twins | Page 6

her song. For several minutes
she and True Tammas sat there gazing westward across the valley with
the little river flowing through it, to the hills swimming in the blue
distance beyond.
At last she called over her shoulder, "Jock, Father's coming," and Jock,

seeing that his cause was hopelessly lost, unfastened the door. Jean, her
father, and True Tammas all came into the kitchen together, and the
moment she was in the room again you should have seen how she
ordered things about!
"Set the milk right down here, Father," she said, tapping the table with
her finger as she flew past to get the strainer and a pan, "and you, Jock,
fill the kettle. It's almost dry this minute. And stir up the fire under it.
Tam,"--that was what they called the dog for short,--"go under the table
or you'll get stepped on!"
You should have seen how they all minded!--even the father, who was
six feet tall, with a jaw like a nut-cracker and a face that would have
looked very stern indeed if it hadn't been for his twinkling blue eyes.
When the milk was strained and put away in the little shed room back
of the kitchen chimney, Jean got out the oatmeal-kettle and hung the
porridge over the fire, and while that was cooking she set three places
at the tiny table and scalded the churn. Meanwhile Jock went out to
feed the fowls. By half past six the oatmeal was on the table and the
little family gathered about it, reverently bowing their heads while the
Shepherd of Glen Easig asked a blessing upon the food.
There was only porridge and milk for breakfast, so it took but a short
time to eat it, and then the real work of the day began. The Shepherd
put on his Kilmarnock bonnet and called Tam, who had had his
breakfast on the hearth, and the two went away to the hills after the
sheep. Jock led the cow to a patch of green turf near the bottom of the
hill, where she could find fresh pasture, and Jean was left alone in the
kitchen of the little gray house. Ah, you should have seen her then! She
washed the dishes and put them away in the cupboard, she skimmed the
milk and put the cream into the churn, she swept the hearth and shook
the blankets out of doors in the fresh morning air. Then she made the
beds, and when the kitchen was all in order, she "went ben"--that was
the way they spoke of the best room--and dusted that too. There wasn't
really a bit of need of dusting the room, for it was never, never used
except on very important occasions, such as when the minister called.
The little house was five miles from the village, so the minister did not
come often, but Jean kept it clean all the time just to be on the safe side.
There wasn't so very much work to do in the room after all, for there
was nothing in it but the fireplace, a little table with the Bible, the

Catechism, and a copy of Burns's poems on it, and three chairs. The
kitchen was a different matter: There were the beds, and they were hard
for a small girl to manage, and the cupboard with its shelves of dishes.
There were three stools, and a big chair for the Shepherd, and the great
chest where the clothes were kept, and besides all these things there
was the wag- at-the-wall clock on the mantel-shelf which had to be
wound every Saturday night. If you want to know just where these
things stood, you have only to look at the plan, where their places are
so plainly marked that, if you were suddenly to wake up in the middle
of the night and find yourself in the little gray house, you could go
about and put your hand on everything in it in the dark.
Jock stayed with the cow as long as he dared, and went back to the
house only when he knew he couldn't postpone his tasks any longer.
Jean was sweeping the doorstep as he came slowly up the hill.
"Come along, Grandfather," she called out, her brow sternly puckered
in front and her curls bobbing gaily up and down behind. "A body'd
think you were seventy-five years old and had the rheumatism to see
you move! Come and work the churn a bit. 'Twill limber you up."
Jock knew that arguments were useless. His father had told him, girl's
work or not, he was to help Jean, so he slowly dragged into the house
and slowly began to move the dasher up and down.
"Havers!" said Jean, when she could stand it no