Domsie found Drumsheugh inclined for company, and assisted at an
exhaustive and caustic treatment of local affairs. When the conduct
of Piggie Walker, who bought Drumsheugh's potatoes and went into
bankruptcy without paying for a single tuber, had been characterized
in language that left nothing to be desired, Drumsheugh began to
soften and show signs of reciprocity.
"Hoo's yir laddies, Dominie?" whom the farmers regarded as a risky
turnip crop in a stiff clay that Domsie had "to fecht awa in." "Are
ony o' them shaping weel?"
Drumsheugh had given himself away, and Domsie laid his first
parallel with a glowing account of George Howe's Latinity, which was
well received.
"Weel, I'm gled tae hear sic accoonts o' Marget Hoo's son; there's
naething in Whinnie but what the spune puts in."
But at the next move Drumsheugh scented danger and stood at guard.
"Na, na, Dominie, I see what yir aifter fine; ye mind hoo ye got
three notes oot o' me at Perth market Martinmas a year past for ane
o' yir college laddies. Five punds for four years; my word, yir no
blate (modest). And what for sud I educat Marget Hoo's bairn? If ye
kent a' ye wudna ask me; it's no reasonable, Dominie. So there's an
end o't."
Domsie was only a pedantic old parish schoolmaster, and he knew
little beyond his craft, but the spirit of the Humanists awoke
within him, and he smote with all his might, bidding goodbye to his
English as one flings away the scabbard of a sword.
"Ye think that a'm asking a great thing when I plead for a pickle
notes to give a puir laddie a college education. I tell ye, man, a'm
honourin' ye and givin' ye the fairest chance ye'll ever hae o'
winning wealth. Gin ye store the money ye hae scrapit by mony a hard
bargain, some heir ye never saw 'ill gar it flee in chambering and
wantonness. Gin ye hed the heart to spend it on a lad o' pairts like
Geordie Hoo, ye wud hae twa rewards nae man could tak fra ye. Ane
wud be the honest gratitude o' a laddie whose desire for knowledge
ye hed sateesfied, and the second wud be this--anither scholar in
the land; and a'm thinking with auld John Knox that ilka scholar is
something added to the riches of the commonwealth. And what 'ill it
cost ye? Little mair than the price o' a cattle beast. Man, Drumsheugh,
ye poverty-stricken cratur, I've naethin' in this world but a handfu'
o' books and a ten-pund note for my funeral, and yet, if it wasna I
have all my brither's bairns tae keep, I wud pay every penny mysel'.
But I'll no see Geordie sent to the plough, tho' I gang frae door
to door. Na, na, the grass 'ill no grow on the road atween the
college and the schule-hoose o' Drumtochty till they lay me in the
auld kirkyard."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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