Scotland -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
On the afternoon of the Saturday that carted me and my two boxes to
Thrums, I was ben in the room playing Hendry at the dambrod. I had one
of the room chairs, but Leeby brought a chair from the kitchen for her
father. Our door stood open, and as Hendry often pondered for two
minutes with his hand on a "man," I could have joined in the gossip
that was going on but the house.
"Ay, weel, then, Leeby," said Jess, suddenly, "I'll warrant the
minister 'll no be preachin' the morn."
This took Leeby to the window.
"Yea, yea," she said (and I knew she was nodding her head sagaciously);
I looked out at the room window, but all I could see was a man wheeling
an empty barrow down the brae.
"That's Robbie Tosh," continued Leeby; "an' there's nae doot 'at he's
makkin for the minister's, for he has on his black coat. He'll be to
row the minister's luggage to the post-cart. Ay, an' that's Davit
Lunnan's barrow. I ken it by the shaft's bein' spliced wi' yarn.
Davit broke the shaft at the saw-mill."
"He'll be gaen awa for a curran (number of) days," said Jess, "or he
would juist hae taen his bag. Ay, he'll be awa to Edinbory, to see the
lass."
"I wonder wha'll be to preach the morn--tod, it'll likely be Mr.
Skinner, frae Dundee; him an' the minister's chief, ye ken."
"Ye micht' gang up to the attic, Leeby, an' see if the spare bedroom
vent (chimney) at the manse is gaen. We're sure, if it's Mr. Skinner,
he'll come wi' the post frae Tilliedrum the nicht, an' sleep at the
manse."
"Weel, I assure ye," said Leeby, descending from the attic, "it'll no
be Mr. Skinner, for no only is the spare bedroom vent no gaen, but the
blind's drawn doon frae tap to fut, so they're no even airin' the room.
Na, it canna be him; an' what's mair, it'll be naebody 'at's to bide a'
nicht at the manse."
"I wouldna say that; na, na. It may only be a student; an' Marget
Dundas" (the minister's mother and housekeeper) "michtna think it
necessary to put on a fire for him."
"Tod, I'll tell ye wha it'll be. I wonder I didna think o' 'im sooner.
It'll be the lad Wilkie; him 'at's mither mairit on Sam'l Duthie's
wife's brither. They bide in Cupar, an' I mind 'at when the son was
here twa or three year syne he was juist gaen to begin the diveenity
classes in Glesca."
"If that's so, Leeby, he would be sure to bide wi' Sam'l. Hendry, hae
ye heard 'at Sam'l Duthie's expeckin' a stranger the nicht?"
"Haud yer tongue," replied Hendry, who was having the worst of the game.
"Ay, but I ken he is," said Leeby triumphantly to her mother, "for ye
mind when I was in at Johnny Watt's (the draper's) Chirsty (Sam'l's
wife) was buyin' twa yards o' chintz, an' I couldna think what she
would be wantin' 't for!"
"I thocht Johnny said to ye 'at it was for a present to Chirsty's
auntie?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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