XIII.
SANDY AND BAWBIE'S SPRING HOLIDAY.
Spring holiday! Wheesht! I'll no' forget it in a hurry, I can tellyou. But I never saw't different. Holidays are juist a perfeckscunner, as far as I've haen to do wi' them; an' as for the rest--I'mshure I'm aye tireder efter a holiday than at the tailend o' a hardday's wark. I'm juist a' sair the day wi' sittin' i' the train; an'yesterday nicht I cud hardly move oot o' the bit, I was that dune.
But I maun tell you the story frae the beginnin'. You've mibby heardme speak aboot Meg Mortimer's mither that used to bide at The Drum.Meg's in a big wey o' doin' noo in Edinboro; but I've seen the day, I'mthinkin'! Weel div I mind when her mither flitted ower frae Powsoddie.She cam' along to oor hoose to seek the len' o' twa kists, juist to gieher flittin' some appearance on the cairts. Ay did she, noo-na-na!What think ye o' that? They were as puir's I kenna what, an' mony apuckle meal did they get oot o' oor girnil, for Dauvid Mortimer was anice man, altho' he was terriple hudden doon wi' the reums.
Weel, Meg gaed awa' to service, an' fell in wi' a weeda man wi' threeo' a faimly. I can ashure you there's nae tume kists in her hoose noo.She has a big wey o' doin'. Her man's a kind o' heid pillydakus amon'a lot o' naveys, makin' railroads, and main drains, an' so on. He'smade a heap o' bawbees. Mester Blair's his name. They bide in a bighoose doon about the Meadows in Edinboro, an' they have a big servant,and twa dogs; forby a bit lassockie to look efter the bairns.
Meg was throo seein' her fowk no' that lang syne, an' she wud hae me topromise to come throo wi' Sandy an' see them. She wudna hae a na-say.She was aye an awfu' tague for tonguein', Meg. I mind when she was butten 'ear auld, me, that was saxteen or seventeen 'ear aulder, cudnahaud the can'le till her. She was a gabbin' little taed. Weel, rizzenbe't or neen, she fair dang me into sayin' I wud come wi' Sandy an' seeher at the spring holiday; an' so we juist had to go.
Sandy gaed on juist like a clockin' hen a' Sabbath efternune an' nicht.He had the upstairs bed lippin' fu' o' luggitch that he was thinkin' o'takin' wi' him. A body wudda thocht he was settiu' aff for a croozeroond the North Pole, instead o' on a veesit to Edinboro. He wasrubbin' up his buits, an' syne brethin' on them, an' rubbin' them upagain, an' settin' himsel' back an' lookin' at himsel' in them. He's aprood bit stockie, Sandy, mind ye, when there's naebody lookin'. Hehad a' his goshore suit hung oot on the backs o' chairs a' roond thehoose. It lookit like's there was genna be a sale or a raffle orsomething.
He gaed doon to supper Donal' i' the forenicht, an' I took a danderawa' doon ahent him, juist to get a moof'u' o' caller air. When Ilandit at the stable door I heard Sandy speakin' to somebody. I took abit peek in at the winda, an' here's Sandy merchin' aboot wi' the horsecover tied up in a bundle in ae hand, an' a stick i' the ither. Hestoppit in the tume staw an' laid doon his bundle rale smert like; synehe lookit ower the buird to Donal', an' says, in an Englishy kind o' avoice, "Twa return tickets third-class an' back to Edinboro!" I sawsyne what he was at! He was practeesin' seekin' the tickets at thestation. Ow, ay; Sandy's like a' ither body! He's a gey breeziecarlie when he's awa' frae hame, an' his dickie on!
Sandy had his uswal argey-bargeyin' in the train, an' I thocht ae manan' him, that cam' in at Carnoustie, wi' his wife, an' a pair o'nickerbucker breeks on, was genna t'a' to the fechtin' a'thegither.An' faigs, Sandy snoddit him geylies afore we got to Dundee.
There was a lot o' men' an' loons staiverin' aboot Carnoustie playin'at the gowf; an' Sandy says--"Look at thae jumpin'-jecks o' craturs wi'their reed jeckets on, like as mony organ-grinders' monkeys, rinnin'aboot wi' their bits o' sticks, wallopin' awa' at Indeen-rubber ba's.Puir craturs!"
Man, the chappie wi' the nickerbuckers got up in an awfu' pavey, an'misca'ed Sandy for a' the vagues--you never heard the like!
"Look ye hear, my bit birkie," says Sandy, gien a gey wild-like winkwi' his richt e'e, "you speak when ye're spoken till! I dinna bathermysel' wi' paper-mashie peeriewinkles like the likes o' you; but if yougi'e me ony o' your sma' chat, man, I'll tak' an' thrapple you wi' thatfowerpence-happeny-the-dizzen paper collar ye've roond the wizand o'ye."
"Wud ye?" said the Carnoustie birkie, jumpin' till his feet.
The train gae a shoag juist at that meenit, an' he gaed doit ower onthe tap o' Sandy, and brocht a tin box doish doon on his heid. He gota gey tnap, I can tell you. Sandy keepit his temper somethingwinderfu', an' he juist quietly set doon Nickerbucker Tammie on theseat an' says, "Ay, loonie; juist you sit still there till your mithergie's your nose a dicht, an' ties your gartins; an' you'll get a piecean' jeely on't when the trainie stops."
You never heard sic lauchin' as there was; an' Sandy's frien' lookit asgin he'd haen a dram, an' gotten an awfu' dose o' cauld. He didna say"guid-mornin'" when he gaed oot at the Toy Brig Station.
Sandy had twa-three mair pliskies atween Dundee an' Edinboro, but Ihinna time to tell you o' them. Peety the man that starts to writeSandy's beebliographie. If he tells the hale truth, eksettera, he'llhae a gey job. The faimly Bible 'ill be like a heym-book aside thevolum. They'll need to get up early i' the mornin' that reads Sandy'slife, I tell you. The man that writes it 'ill never win to his bed ava.
Weel-a-weel, we landit at Edinboro, an Meg was waitin's, an' as monybairns wi' her as wudda startit a raggit schule--although they were a'braw an' snod, I ashure ye.
"Keep me, Meg," said Sandy, efter he'd shaken hands wi' her, "is thaea' your litlans? Dod, sic a cleckin!"
The ass that he is! I saw Meg chowl her chafts gey angry like, an' Itook Sandy a doish i' the back wi' my umberell. "Say Mistress Blair,ye ill-mennered whaup atyar," says I in his lug; an' he gleyed roond atme, an' says, wi' anither o' his vegabon'-like winks, "Ay; that'sWattie Scott's monniment, Bawbie. A great man, Wattie! It was him 'atwret Bailie Nickil Jarvie an' the Reed Gauntlet an' so on. He bade afortnicht wi' Luckie Walker at Auchmithie. Bandy Wobster's grandfathersell'd him a dog when he was there. He was a fine man, Wattie."
Meg an' the bairns an' me gaed into the cab, an Sandy, he wud be up onthe dickey aside the driver. As I cudda tell'd afore he gaed up, hewasna there five meenits when he was nearhand at the fechtin' wi' theman aboot the wey he drave his horse. I was gled when we landit atMeg's hoose, for I was expectin' ilky meenit to see the cabby--he wasan ill-faur'd, rossen-faced lookin' tyke--fling Sandy heels-ower-heidinto the cab amon' the bairns--he was black-gairdin' the man's horsefor an auld, hunger'd reeshil, an' praisin' up Donal' that terriple!
"Man, you've juist to lay the reinds on's back, an' he's awa' like thewind," I heard him sayin'. "There's naething a' roond aboot can touchhim. He can trot up the High Road wi' sasteen hunderwecht. He's areg'lar topper! You should send that hunger'd-lookin' radger o' yoursto Glesterlaw"; an' so on he gaed, an' the man girnin' an' skoolin' athim like a teegar.
When we cam' aff at the Meadows, Sandy gaed roond aboot the beast,chucklin' awa' till himsel' juist like watter dreepin' intil a tumecistern; but he keepit oot o' the reach o' the cabby's kornals. Iexpeckit to see him get roond the linders wi' them for his impidence.
"If you cam' to Arbroath wi' the like o' that, the Croolty to Animalswud grip you afore you was weel through the toll," he says to the man."You'll better g'wa' hame wi't as lang's it's het. If you lat thatsharger cule, it'll stiffen up, an' you'll never get it oot o' the bit,till you bring a cairt for't."
The cabby got his bawbees frae Meg, an' drave awa', gien Sandy a glowerlike a puttin' bull; but Sandy juist gae a bit lauch, an' cried,"Ta-ta!"
We got into the house. Eh, sic a place for stech! Haud your tongue!Really yon fair sneckit a'thing. Sandy could hardly get his hat afffor glowerin' aboot him; an' when he did get it aff, he handit it toane o' the loons; an', afore you cudda sen Jeck Robison, they were ootat the back door scorin' goals wi't throo' atween the claes-poles onthe green. Meg was at the hurdies o' them wi' a switch gey quick, an'sune had Sandy's lum hingin' aside his greatcoat in the lobby.
We wasna lang set doon when in cam' Meg's man
. A brisk-lookin' fellahhe is, I can tell you. He shook hands wi's as hearty's though we'dcome to gie him a job; an' in five meenits, tooch, you wudda thochtSandy an' him had never been sindered sin' they got on their firstdaidles. I'll swag, Meg's fa'in on hex feet, an' nae mistak'!
I'm shure I'm no complainin', but Sandy Bowden's been an unsatisfaktoryman in mony weys; but, as the Bible says, we've a' a dwang o' somekind, an' if I hadna gotten Sandy, weel, I michta haen a drucken son,or a licht-heided dauchter. Wha can tell? We've a' a hankie mair thanwe deserve, nae doot. I ken I have onywey; but that's nether here northere.
We were sittin' enjoyin' a crack, an' lookin' oot at the windas,watchin' the bairns in their coaches, an' the birds fleein' aboot ashappy as crickets, huntin' for wirms amon' the young girss.
"The Meadows look very pretty i' the noo," said Mester Blair. "Thevery birds enjoy the fresh green grass."
"They do that," put in Sandy. "It's a treat to see them, puir things.They are fond o' a bittie o' onything green. I tak' a bit dander ootthe bunkers on a Sabbath mornin' whiles for a pucklie chuckin-wirth toDickie, an' you wud really think the cratur kent. He gleys doon when Icome in, as much as to say, 'C'way wi't, Sandy; I ken fine you have'tin your pooch!'"
"Bawbie here winna believe me," continued Sandy, gien Mester Blair awink, "but I've tell'd her twa-three times that when I've gane doon theyaird i' the winter-time wi' my auld greatcoat--it's gettin' very greennoo, but it was a bit guid stuff aince in its day--the birds 'ill comefleein' doon an' sit on the palin' aside me, an' wheetle-wheetle awa'for a whilie. It's queer; but that's the effek the green appears tohae on them."
Mester Blair leuch till I thocht he wudda wranged himsel'. A richthearty laucher he is. The lauch gaed a' ower him, an' you could hardlysen futher it was comin' oot o' his moo or his baits, there was thatmuckle o't.
Syne Sandy an' him got on to the crack aboot the tattie trade, an' youwudda thocht Sandy was genna tak' him in for a pairtner, he had thatmuckle to tell him.
"An' do you do much wi' the Americans?" said Mester Blair.
"I do a' their trade," said Sandy. "There's only three o' them buystatties in Arbroath noo. The ither twa's gey queer that wey; they geta'thing preserved in tins, frae aboot London they tell me."
Mester Blair didna appear to understand Sandy, an' he speered, "Do youget cash again' Billy Lowden; or hoo d'ye get peyment?"
"If the bawbees is no' at the back o' the cairt, up goes the bawk, an'Donal' ca's awa," says Sandy. "Na, na, neen o' your Billy Lowden tickfor me. I believe in the ready clink."
"Oh, I see," said Mester Blair. "You get cash at the ship's side.That is the safe plan."
"As you say," said Sandy, "that's exakly Bandy Wobster's wey o'pettin't. I believe in the bawbees afore the tatties leave the backdoor o' the cairt. Short accounts mak' lang freends."
"Do you do onything wi' the Continent ava?" said Meg's man.
"I travel a' ower the toon," said Sandy, "frae Tootles Nook toCulloden, an' frae the Skemels to Cairnie Toll. It disna maitter adoakan to me wha I sell till. Seven pund to the half-steen, an' cashdoon--thae's my principles; the same price, and the game turn o' thebawk, to gentle and simple. When the champions are gude I can manishtwa load i' the day fine, an' if the disease keeps oot amon' them, theypey no that ill."
Meg's man gey a kind o' a whistle in laich, an' I saw fine syne whaurhe had tint himsel'. Meg had tell'd him Sandy was a tattie merchant,an' he'd been thinkin' Sandy had a big wey o' doin', an' sell'd tattiesin shiploads an' so on. I saw the whole thing in a blink, but neverlut wink, an' Sandy was fient a hair the better or the waur o' Meg'sman's mistak'.
We got a grand denner--something specific. "This is a kind o' a haivero' buff, Mistress Blair," said Sandy, when we got set doon; but I gaehim a kick throo ablo the table that garred him tak' his tongue atweenhis teeth.
I needna tell you aboot a' we got to eat; Sandy ate that hearty that hegaed oot to the simmer-seat efter, an' cud hardly steer oot o' the bitfor half an 'oor. Really ilky thing was better than anither, an' wefeenished up wi' ice-cream. Sandy took a gullar o't afore he kent, an'I think he thocht he was brunt, for he nippit up the water bottle, an'took a sweech o' cauld watter, an' then gae a pech like's he'd comeooten a fit. He was a' richt efter a whilie, but the cratur hadover-eaten himsel', an' he was gey uneasy a' efternune.
Efter we got oor tea, Meg got the bairns a' beddit, an' then her an'her man, an' me an' Sandy set aff for the theater. It was a terriplegrand theater, wi' as muckle gold hingin' roond aboot as wud mak' a'the puir fowk in Arbroath millionaires. We got a grand seat, an'a'thing gaed richt till near the feenish.
Mester Blair had what they ca' an opera gless wi' him, an' he handed itto me to look throo. Sandy in wi' his hand intil his greatcoat pooch,an' oot wi' his spygless, a great lang thing' like a barber's pole,that he wan at a raffle at the Whin Inn. There was a chappie deein' onthe stage. He'd stuck himsel' wi' his soord, because a lassie wudnamairry him, an' he was juist lyin' tellin' a' the fowk aboot crooilweemin, an' peace in the grave, an' a'thing, when Sandy cockit up hisspygless to hae a glower at him afore he gae his henmist gasp.
I saw the chappie gien a kind o' a fear'd-like start, syne he sprangtill his feet an' roared, "Pileece, pileece! there's an anarkist an' afeenyin's bom in the theater," an' took till his heels aff the stage.
You never saw sic a wey o' doin'. You speak aboot peace in the grave.There wasna muckle peace in the theater. We was a' winderin' what wasado, an' Sandy was busy peekin' roond wi' his spygless, when twabobbies cam' fleein' anower an' grippit him an' roared till him tosirrender. I can tell you, he nearhand sirrendered ane o' the bobbieswi' the spygless. If it hadna been for Mester Blair gettin' a haud o'the wechty end o't, there wudda been a noo helmet, an' mibby a newbobby needed in Edinboro.
The row was a' ower in five meenits, when Mester Blair explen'd things;but if he hadna been wi's, I'm dootin' it wudda been a job. There wasane o' the great muckle dosent nowts o' bobbies cam' an' gowpit in myface, an' says, "D'ye think this ane's a woman?" I fand in ahent's formy umberell; but my chappie gaed his wa's gey quick, or I'd gien himthe wecht o't across his nose. It was a gey-like wey o' doin' abootnaething; but efter we got hame an' had oor supper we forgot a' abootit, an' spent a very happy 'oor or twa afore we gaed to oor beds.