The Guinea Stamp: A Tale of Modern GlasgowSwan, Annie S.
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The Guinea Stamp: A Tale of Modern Glasgow
Swan, Annie S.
Glasgow (Scotland) -- Fiction
'If the lassie I'm lodgin' wi' is in, Teen, ye can tell her I'm no'
comin' back. I'm very gled to get quit o' her, onyway,' she said, as
Teen buttoned on her shabby black jacket.
'What's her name? Had ye better no' write a line, for fear she'll no'
gie me the things?'
'Oh, she'll gie ye them withoot ony bother; they wadna bring her abune
ten shillin's, onyhoo. An', I say, dinna tell her onything aboot me,
mind. She'd think naething o' comin' onywhere efter me.'
'Oh, I'll no' tell. Clashin' was never my sin,' said Teen. 'But her
name?--ye havena telt me that yet.'
'Oh, weel, she ca's hersel' Mrs. Gordon, but I dinna believe she's a
wife at a'. She's in the ballet at the Olympic the noo.'
'An' what way is she bidin' at Maryhill?'
'Oh, her man's there. She says she's mairret to yin o' the officers, but
I've never set een on him.'
'Is she a nice lassie?'
'Oh, weel enough. She's no' mean, onyhoo, but she's gey fast. She was
tryin' to get me ta'en on at the Olympic. If she says onything, jist
tell her I've changed my mind.'
'An' are ye no' awn onything for the lodgin's?' queried Teen, who had a
singular conscientiousness regarding debt, even of a microscopic kind.
'No; I paid up when I had it. I dinna owe her onything.'
Teen was silent as she put her long hat-pin through the heavy masses of
her hair and pulled her fringe a little lower on her brow; but she
thought a great deal. Bit by bit the story was coming out, and she had
no difficulty in filling up for herself the melancholy details.
'Noo I'm ready. Ye'll no' slope when I'm oot, Liz?' she said warningly;
and Liz laughed a dreary, mirthless laugh.
'I ken when I'm weel aff. I wish to goodness I had come to you when I
was sick o' Brigton, instead o' gaun where I gaed.'
Teen stood still in breathless silence, wondering if full revelation was
about to be made. When Liz saw this, the old spirit of contrariness
entered into her again, and she said crossly,--
'What are ye waitin' on noo?'
'Naething,' replied Teen meekly. 'Weel, I'm aff. I'll be back afore
dark. Ye can hae the kettle bilin', an' I'll bring in a sausage or a red
herrin' for oor tea.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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