English fiction -- Scottish authors; Scottish fiction; Short stories, English -- Scottish authors; Short stories, Scottish
Neither could the step be called a great descent, when in mind and
manners so many were nearly on one level. For instance, not only had
Drumsheugh and Balcairnie been fellow-scholars at the same parish
school, but another contemporary scholar was little Peggy Hedderwick,
the daughter of a hedger-and-ditcher, who had brought her doubled-up
scone and whang of cheese tied up in a napkin for her dinner at school,
just as she had carried her father’s dinner daily when the field of
his operations was within a girl’s walk from home. Peggy, though she
was the junior of both the lads by some three to four years, had
darted nimbly ahead, with the precociously quick wit of girls, in all
learning, save sums. She had been ‘out of the Testament’ and ‘into
Proverbs’ before either of the boys, and she had been such an expert in
repeating the shorter catechism, from ‘man’s chief end’ to the Creed,
without halt or blunder, that the master himself could not ‘fichle’
(puzzle) her. She had frequently coached her seniors and betters in
that, to them, most difficult performance. As for the Psalms and
Paraphrases, she could repeat them by heart in her shrill sing-song,
till the master, though he was a licentiate of the Kirk, grew weary
of hearing her. It was even seriously believed in the school that she
had surmounted the Ass’s Bridge of the curriculum and could say right
off, if anybody would stay to listen to her, the whole of the Hundred
and Nineteenth Psalm. She could write a fine round hand, with an
occasional clerkly flourish at the tail of a letter. It was at sums
that Peggy hung her head. The multiplication table, with its barren
chart of commercial details, unbrightened by a green spot on which
fancy and sentiment could feed, had brought her to grief, and taken the
pride of intellect out of the white-headed lassie. The lads who came
through this test triumphantly had tried to help her in turn. But it
was in vain--poor Peggy would never make even a decent arithmetician.
It must only be by counting her fingers that she could ever reckon her
earnings and her spendings.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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