Brothers -- Juvenile fiction; Christian life -- Juvenile fiction; Country life -- Juvenile fiction; Scotland -- Juvenile fiction
Hearing this, she relaxed her labour, and the hooks which had been
revolving so fast that they were invisible in a mist of motion, began
to dawn into form, until at length they revealed their shape, and at
last stood quite still. She rose, and said:
“Come, Master Ranald, and sit down. You’ll be tired of riding such a
rough horse as that.”
“No, indeed,” I said; “Turkey is not a rough horse; he’s the best
horse in the world.”
“He always calls me Turkey, mother, because of my nose,” said Turkey,
laughing.
“And what brings you here?” asked his mother. “This is not on the road
to the manse.”
“I wanted to see if you were better, mother.”
“But what becomes of the cows?”
“Oh! they’re all safe enough. They know I’m here.”
“Well, sit down and rest you both,” she said, resuming her own place
at the wheel. “I’m glad to see you, Johnnie, so be your work is not
neglected. I must go on with mine.”
Thereupon Turkey, who had stood waiting his mother’s will, deposited
me upon her bed, and sat down beside me.
“And how’s your papa, the good man?” she said to me.
I told her he was quite well.
“All the better that you’re restored from the grave, I don’t doubt,”
she said.
I had never known before that I had been in any danger.
“It’s been a sore time for him and you too,” she added. “You must be a
good son to him, Ranald, for he was in a great way about you, they
tell me.”
Turkey said nothing, and I was too much surprised to know what to say;
for as often as my father had come into my room, he had always looked
cheerful, and I had had no idea that he was uneasy about me.
After a little more talk, Turkey rose, and said we must be going.
“Well, Ranald,” said his mother, “you must come and see me any time
when you’re tired at the school, and you can lie down and rest
yourself a bit. Be a good lad, Johnnie, and mind your work.”
“Yes, mother, I’ll try,” answered Turkey cheerfully, as he hoisted me
once more upon his back. “Good day, mother,” he added, and left the
room.
I mention this little incident because it led to other things
afterwards. I rode home upon Turkey’s back; and with my father’s
leave, instead of returning to school that day, spent the afternoon in
the fields with Turkey.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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