of scent, and Riga Balsam for hacked hands, and the rale Cheena cheeny, and ostrich feathers and a’ that, I’ll – I’ll be awfu’ wild at him. But the first thing I’ll dae’ll be to stand behind the door and catch him when he comes in, and tak’ the strap to him for the rideeculous wye he didna write to us.”
“Seeven years,” said Jinnet. “Oh, that weary sea, a puir trade to be followin’ for ony mither’s son. It was Australia he wrote frae last; whiles I’m feared the blecks catched him oot there and killed him in the Bush.”
“No! nor the Bush! Jist let them try it wi’ oor Willie! Dod! he would put the hems on them; he could wrastle a score o’ blecks wi’ his least wee bit touch.”
“Erchie.”
“Weel, Jinnet?”
“Ye’ll no’ be angry wi’ me; but wha was it tellt ye they saw him twa years syne carryin’ on near the quay, and that he was stayin’ at the Sailors’ Home?”
“It was Duffy,” said Erchie, hurriedly. “I have a guid mind to – to kick him for sayin’ onything o’ the kind. I wad hae kicked him for’t afore this if – if I wasna a beadle in the kirk.”
“I’m shair it wasna oor Willie at a’,” said Jinnet.
“Oor Willie! Dae ye think the laddie’s daft, to be in Gleska and no’ come to see his mither?”
“I canna believe he wad dae’t,” said Jinnet, but always looked intently in the face of every young man who passed them.
“Weel, that’s ower for anither Setturday,” said Erchie to himself, resuming his slippers and his spectacles.
“I declare, wife,” said he, “ye’ve forgotten something.”
“Whit is’t?” she asked.
“The sweeties ye went oot for,” said Erchie, solemnly.
“Oh, dear me! amn’t I the silly yin? Thinkin’ on that Willie o’ oors puts everything oot o’ my heid.”
Erchie took a paper bag from his pocket and handed it to her. “There ye are,” said he. “I had them in my pooch since dinner-time. I kent ye wad be needin’ them.”
“And ye never let on, but put on your boots and cam’ awa’ oot wi’ me.”
“Of coorse I did; I’m shairly no’ that auld but I can be gled on an excuse for a walk oot wi’ my lass?”
“Oh, Erchie! Erchie!” she cried, “when will ye be wise? I think I’ll put on the kettle and mak’ a cup o’ tea to ye.”
VI MRS DUFFY DESERTS HER MAN
They’re yatterin’ awa’ in the papers there like sweetie-wives aboot Carlyle and his wife,” said Erchie. “It’s no’ the thing at a’ makin’ an exposure. I kent Carlyle fine; he had a wee baker’s shop in Balmano Brae, and his wife made potted heid. It was quite clean; there was naething wrang wi’t. If they quarrelled it was naebody’s business but their ain.
“It’s a gey droll hoose whaur there’s no’ whiles a rippit. Though my fit’s flet my hert’s warm; but even me and Jinnet hae a cast-oot noo and then. I’m aye the mair angry if I ken I’m wrang, and I’ve seen me that bleezin’ bad tempered that I couldna light my pipe, and we wadna speak to ane anither for oors and oors.
“It’ll come to nicht, and me wi’ a job at waitin’ to gang to, and my collar that hard to button I nearly break my thoombs.
“For a while Jinnet’ll say naethin’, and then she’ll cry, ‘See’s a haud o’t, ye auld fuiter!’ I’ll be glowerin’ awfu’ solemn up at the corner o’ the ceilin’ when she’s workin’ at the button, lettin’ on I’m fair ferocious yet, and she’ll say, Whit are ye glowerin’ at? Dae ye see ony spiders’ webs?’
“‘No, nor spiders’ webs,’ I says, as gruff as onything. ‘I never saw a spider’s web in this hoose.’
“At that she gets red in the face and tries no’ to laugh.
“‘There ye are laughin’! Ye’re bate!’ I says.
“So are you laughin’,’ says she; ‘and I saw ye first. Awa’, ye’re daft! Will I buy onything tasty for your supper?’
“Duffy’s different. I’m no’ blamin’ him, for his wife’s different too. When they quarrel it scandalises the close and gies the land a bad name. The wife washes even-on, and greets into her washin’-byne till she mak’s the water cauld, and Duffy sits a’ nicht wi’ his feet on the kitchen-hobs singin’ ‘Boyne Water,’ because her mither was a Bark, called M’Ginty, and cam’ frae Connaught. The folk in the flet abin them hae to rap doon at them wi’ a poker afore they’ll get their nicht’s sleep, and the broken delf that gangs oot to the ash-pit in the mornin’ wad fill a crate.
“I’m no’ sayin’, mind ye, that Duffy doesna like her; it’s jist his wye, for he hasna ony edication. He was awfu’ vexed the time she broke her leg; it pit him aff his wark for three days, and he spent the time lamentin’ aboot her doon in the Mull o’ Kintyre Vaults.
“The biggest row they ever had that I can mind o’ was aboot the time the weemen wore the dolmans. Duffy’s wife took the notion o’ a dolman, and told him that seein’ there was a bawbee up in the bag o’ coal that week she thocht he could very weel afford it.
“‘There’s a lot o’ things we’ll hae to get afore the dolman,’ says he; ‘I’m needin’ a new kep mysel’, and I’m in a menoj for a bicycle.’
“‘I’m fair affronted wi’ my claes,’ says she; ‘I havena had onything new for a year or twa, and there’s Carmichael’s wife wi’ her, sealskin jaicket.’
“‘Let her!’ says Duffy; ‘wi’ a face like thon she’s no’ oot the need o’t.’
“They started wi’ that and kept it up till the neighbours near brocht doon the ceilin’ on them.
“‘That’s the worst o’ leevin’ in a close,’ said Duffy, ‘ye daurna show ye’re the maister in yer ain hoose withoot a lot o’ nyafs above ye spilin’ a’ the plaister.’
“Duffy’s wife left him the very next day, and went hame to her mither’s. She left oot clean sox for him and a bowl o’ mulk on the dresser in case he micht be hungry afore he could mak’ his ain tea.
“When Duffy cam’ hame and found whit had happened, he was awfu’ vexed for himsel’ and begood to greet.
“I heard aboot the thing, and went in to see him, and found him drinkin’ the mulk and eatin’ shaves o’ breid at twa bites to the shave the same as if it was for a wager.
“‘Isn’t this an awfu’ thing that’s come on me, MacPherson?’ says he; ‘I’m nae better nor a weedower except for the mournin’s.’
“‘It hasna pit ye aff yer meat onywye, says I.
“‘Oh!’ he says, ‘ye may think I’m callous, but I hae been greetin’ for twa oors afore I could tak’ a bite, and I’m gaun to start again as soon as I’m done
