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ON the Sunday, when the Sergeant went
to church, as we have already described, Jock Hall was quartered for the
day with Mrs. Craigie. To do Smellie justice, he did not probably know how
very worthless this woman was, far less did the Kirk Session. She was
cunning and plausible enough to deceive both. Her occasional attendance at
church was sufficient tt keep up appearance. The custom of boarding out
pauper children with widows, except when these are not respectable, has on
the whole worked well, and is infinitely superior to the workhouse system.
Mrs. Craigie belonged to the exceptional cases. She accommodated any
lodger who might turn up.
Jock and Mrs. Craigie were at the
window, a second storey one, criticising the passers-by to church, as one
has seen the loungers at a club window do the ordinary passers-by on
week-days. The Sergeant and his wife, with Mary following them, suddenly
attracted their attention.
"The auld hypocrite!" exclaimed Mrs.
Craigie; "there he gangs, as prood as a peacock, haudin' his head up when
it should be bowed doon wi' shame to the dust! An' his wife, tae!—eh! what
a bannet!—sic a goon! Sirs me! Baith are the waur o' the wear. Ha! ha! ha!
And Mary! as I declare, wi' new shoon, a new bannet, and new shawl! The
impudent hizzy that she is! It's a' to spite me, for I see'd her keekin'
up to the window. But stealt bairns can come to nae guid; confoond them a'
!—though I shouldna say't on the Sabbath day."
Hall stood behind her, and watched the
group over her shoulder. "Ye're richt, Luckie," he said, "he is an auld
hypocrite. But they are a' that - like minister, like man. 'Confoond
them,' ye say; 'Amen,' / say; but what d'ye mean by stealt bairns?
Ah, Jock, art thou not also a
hypocrite!
Mrs. Craigie had left the window, and
sat down beside the fire, the church-goers having passed, and the church
bell having ceased to ring. Jock then lighted his pipe opposite Mrs.
Craigie. "What d'ye mean," he asked again, "by stealt bairns?"
"I mean this," replied she, "that yon
auld hypocrite, sodger, and poacher, Adam Mercer, stealt Mary Semple frae
me!" and she looked at Hall with an expression which said, "What do you
think of that?" Then having been invited by Hall to tell him all about the
theft, she did so, continuing her narrative up to the moment when she was
ordered out of the house by Adam; saying now as on that occasion, "But I
hae freen's, and I'll pit Smellie to smash him yet' I'll get my revenge
oot o' him, the auld bitin' brock that he is. Smellie is my freen', and he
has mair power, far, than Adam wi' the minister." So thought Mrs. Craigie.
"Is Sinellie yer freen'?" asked Hall,
without taking his pipe out of his mouth, "and does he hate Adam? and does
he want Mary back tae you?"
"That does he," replied Mrs. Craigie;
"and he wad gie onything to get Mary back tae me."
"Then, my certes, Smellie has pooèr!
nae doot o' that," remarked Hall, with a grim smile; "for he has helpit to
pit me mony a time into the jail. Wad it obleege him muckle tae get Mary
back frae the Sergeant? Wad he befrccn' me if I helped him ?" asked Jock
confidentially.
"It wad be a real treat till him!"
exclaimed Mrs. Craigie; "and he wad befreen' ye a' yer life! An', Hall-"
"But," asked Jock, interrupting her,
"what did ye say aboot poachin'? Was Adam in that line?"
"Him!" exclaimed Mrs. Craigie; "Ise
warrant he was—notorious!"
"Hoo d'y ken?" inquired Jock.
"Smellie telt me! but mind ye, he said
I was to keep it quait till he gied me the wink, ye ken;" and Mrs. Craigie
gave a knowing wink. She did not know that Smellie had already peached.
"For hoo Smellie kent was this, that he had some sort o' business in the
place whaur Mercer leeved—that's north in Bennock parish—afore he was a
sodger; and Smellie picked up a' the story o' his poachin, for Smellie is
awfu' shairp; but he wad never tell't till he could pit it like a gag into
the prood mouth o' Adam; and Smellie says he'll pit it in noo, and let
Adam crunch his theeth on't," said Mr'. Craigie, gnashing the few she had
herself.
Hall manifested a singular
inquisitivness to know as much as possible about those poaching days, and
their locality, until at last being satisfied, and having learned that the
old keeper of Lord Bennock was still alive, though, as Mrs. Craigie said,
"clean superannuat," and that he was, moreover, Adam's cousin, Jock said,
"What an awfu' blackguard Adam maun be! If I had kent what I ken noo, I
never wad hae gi'en him my boots to men'."
"Yer boots to men'!" exclaimed Mrs.
Craigie, with astonishment; "what for did ye do that?"
"He had nae wark."
"Ser' him richt! " said Mrs. Craigie.
"And I patroneesed him," continued
Jock.
"Ha! ha! It was far ower guid o' ye,
Jock, tae patroneese him," said Mrs. Craigie. "Ye'll no pay him, I houp?
But he's sic a greedy fallow, that he micht expec' even a puir sowl like
you tae pay."
"Me pay him!" said Jock, with a laugh,
"maybe—when I hae paid the debt o' natur; no till then."
"But, Jock," asked Mrs. Craigie, almost
in a whisper, "did ye see Mary, the wee slut?"
"I did that," replied Jock, "an' it wad
hae broken yer feelin' heart. Luckie, had ye seen her!—no lying as a puir
orphan paid for by the Session ocht to lie, on a shake-doon, wi' a blanket
ower her,—my certes, guid eneuch for the like o' her, and for the bawbees
paid for her—"
"Guid ?—ower guid!" interpolated Mrs.
Craigie.
"But," continued Hall, with a leer,
"she was mair like a leddy, wi' a bed till hersel', an' curtains on't; and
sitting in a chair, wi' stockin's and shoon, afore the fire--learning her
lesson, too, and coddled and coodled by Adam and his wife. What say ye to
that, Luckie? what say ye to that?"
"Dinna' rnak' me daft!" exclaimed Mrs.
Craigie; "it's eneuch to mak' a bodie swear e'en on the Sabbath day!"
"Swear awa' !" said Hall; "the day maks
nae difference to me. Sae ca' awa', woman, if it wuli dae ye ony guid, or
gie ye ony comfort."
Mrs. Craigie, instead of accepting the
advice of her "ne'er-do-weel" lodger, fell into a meditative mood. What
could she be thinking about? Her Sabbath thoughts came to this, in their
practical results—a proposal to Jock Flail to seize Mary as she was
returning from church, and to bring her again under the protection of her
dear old motherly friend. She could not, indeed, as yet take her from
under the Sergeant's roof by force, but could the Sergeant retake her if
by any means She were brought back under her roof?
Jock, after some consideration,
entertained the proposal, discussed it, and then came to terms. "What wull
ye gie me?" he at last asked.
"A glass o' whuskey and a saxpence!"
said Mrs. Craigie.
"Ba! ba!" said Jock; "I'm nae bairn,
but gleg and canny, like a moudievart! Saxpence! Ye ken as weel as I do
that if the Shirra - for, losh me! I ken baith him an' the law ower weel!—if
he heard ye were plottin' an plannin' to grip a bairn that way on the
Sabbath, and payin' me for helpin' ye—my word! you and me wad be pit in
jail; and though this micht be a comfort tae me—lodgings and vittals for
naething, ye ken, and a visit to an auld hame—it wadna dae for a Christian
woman like you, Luckie! Eh, lass? it wad never dae! What wad the minister
and Smellie say? no' t speak o' the Sergeant ? —hoo he wad craw! Sae
unless ye keep it as quait as death, an' gie me half-a-crown, I'll no' pit
my han' on the bairn."
"The bargain's made!" said Mrs. Craigie.
But ye maun wait till I get a shilling rnair frae Mrs. D'rymple, as I've
nae change."
"Tell her to come ben," said Jock. "Can
ye trust her wi' the secret? Ye should get her tae help ye, and tae swear,
if it comes tae a trial, that the bairn cam' tae ye o' her ain free
consent, mind. I'm ready, for half-a-crown mair, to ge my aith to the same
effec'."
"Ye're no far wrang; that's the plan!"
said Mrs. Craigie. "I can trust Peggy like steel. An' I'm sure Mary does
want to come tae me. That's the truth and nae lee. Sae you and Peggy
D'rymple may sweer a' that wi' a guid conscience."
But my conscience," said Jock, "is no
sae guid as yours or Peggy's, an' it'll be the better o' anither
half-crown, in case I hae to sweer, to keep it frae botherin' me. But I'll
gie ye credit for the money, an' ye'll gie me credit for what I awe ye for
my meat and lodgin' sin' Monday."
A' richt, a' richt, Jock; sae be't,"
replied Mrs. Craigie, as she went to fetch her neighbour, who lived on the
same flat.
Mrs. Dalrymple was made a member of the
privy council which met in a few minutes in Mrs. Craigie's room, the door
being bolted.
"I'm nae hypocrite," confessed Jock. "I
scorn to be ane, as ye do; for ye dinna preten' to be unco guid, and
better than ither folk, like Adam Mercer, or that godly man Smellie. I
tell ye, then, I'm up to onything for money or drink. I'll Eteal, I'll
rob, I'll murder, I'll—"
"Whisht, whisht, Jock! Dinna speak that
wild way an' frichten folk!—Be canny, man, be canny, or the neebours 'll
hear ye," said the prudent Mrs. Craigie, who forthwith explained her plan
to her confidential and trustworthy friend, who highly approved of it as
an act of justice to Mrs. Craigie, to Mary, and the Kirk Session.
Half-a-crown was to be Mrs. Dalrymple's pay for her valued aid. Hall
arranged that the moment the women saw the Sergeant coming from church,
they were to give him a sign; and then they—leaving the window, and
retiring behind the door—were to be ready to receive Mary and hold her
fast when brought to the house. To enable Hall to execute the plot more
easily, Mrs. Craigie gave him, at his own suggestion, in order to entice
Mary, a few spring flowers she had got the evening before from a
neighbour's garden, as a posey" for the church—which she had not, however,
attended, being deprived of the priviege, as she meant to assure Smellie,
by illness. Jock had already accepted of a glass of whisky. But as the
exciting moment approached, and as the two women had helped themselves to
a cheerer, as they called it, he got a second gla:s to strengthen his
courage. His courage, however, did not seem to fail him, for he once or
twice whistled and hummed some song—to the great horror of his good
friends; and, strange to say, he also fell into a fit of uncontrollable
laughter— at the thought, so he said, of how the old hypocrite and his
wife would look when Mary was missed and found to be with Mrs. Craigie I
Much warty sympathy was expressed with his strange humour.
The service in the "auld kirk," as the
parish church is called, being over, the congregation were walking home.
One or two of its members had already passed the window where sat the
eager and expectant conspirators. Jock Hall, with a bunch of flowers, was
ready to run down-stairs, to the close mouth, the moment the appointed
signal was given. Very soon the Sergeant and his wfe made their appearance
a little way off, while Mary—how fortunate for the plotters!— followed at
some distance. No sooner were they discovered, than the two women retired
from the window, and gave the signal to Hall to "be off!" They then
ensconced themselves, as previously arranged, at the back of the door,
with eager and palpitating hearts.
Jock sprang out, shutting the door
after him, and rattling down-stairs reached the street just as Mary was
within a few yards. When she was passing the close, he stepped out, and
with a kind voice said, "I hae a message for your faither, Mary dear! Jist
speak to me aff the 'treet." Mary, no longer associating Hall with the
thought of a wild man, but of one who had been a guest of the Sergeant's,
entered the close. Jock Hall gave her the flowers and said: "Gie this
posey to your mither, for the gran' tea she made for me; and gie this
half-croon to yer faither for the braw boots he patched for me. Noo run
awa', my bonnie lassie, and be guid, and do whatever yer faither and
mither bid ye, or Jock Hall wull be angry wi' ye--run!"
Mrs. Craigie, in her excitement and
curiosity, could not resist the temptation of going again to the window,
and no sooner had she seen Mary enter the close than she ran to her
retreat behind the door, whispering joyfully to Mrs. Dalrymple, The wee
deevil is catched, and coming!"
In a moment Jock was at the door, and
while he firmly held the key outside, he opened it so far as to let in his
head. Then addressing the women, he said in an under-breath, or rather
hiss: "Whisht! dinna speak! I catched her." I gied her the posey for Mrs.
Mercer—I gied her the half-croon to pay Mr. Mercer for my boots!—. and
she's hame!—an' ye'll never get her!—You twa limmers are cheated! If ye
cheep, I'll tell the Shirra. Jock Hall is nae hypocrite! Deil tak' ye
baith, and Smellie likewise! I'm aff!" and before a word could be spoken
by the astonished conspirators, Jock locked the door upon them, and
flinging the key along the passage he sprang down-stairs and fled no one
knew whither!
Mary gave the bouquet of flowers to
Mrs. Mercer, whose only remark was: "Wha wad hae thocht it !" and she gave
the half-crown to Adam, who said: "I never hae been as thankfu' for a
day's wage! Pit it in the drawer, and keep it for Jock. I'm no feared but
wi' God's help I'll mak' a sodger o' him yet! For as Charlie's bairn, wee!
remarks: 'A man's a man for a' that,'"
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