The House with the Green ShuttersBrown, George Douglas
General
The House with the Green Shutters
Brown, George Douglas
Scotland -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
She looked at Gibson with a speculation in her eyes that almost verged
on hostility. Wives of the lower classes who are active helpers in a
husband's affairs often direct that look upon strangers who approach him
in the way of business. For they are enemies whatever way you take them;
come to be done by the husband or to do him--in either case, therefore,
the object of a sharp curiosity. You may call on an educated man, either
to fleece him or be fleeced, and his wife, though she knows all about
it, will talk to you charmingly of trifles while you wait for him in her
parlour. But a wife of the lower orders, active in her husband's
affairs, has not been trained to dissemble so prettily; though her face
be a mask, what she is wondering comes out in her eye. There was
suspicion in the big round stare that Mrs. Wilson directed at the
builder. What was _he_ spiering for "himsell" for? What could he be up
to? Some end of his own, no doubt. Anxious curiosity forced her to
inquire.
"Would I do instead?" she asked.
"Well, hardly," said Gibson, clawing his chin, and gazing at a corded
round of "Barbie's Best" just above his head. "Dod, it's a fine ham
that," he said, to turn the subject. "How are ye selling it the now?"
"Tenpence a pound retail, but ninepence only if ye take a whole one. Ye
had better let me send you one, Mr. Gibson, now that winter's drawing
on. It's a heartsome thing, the smell of frying ham on a frosty
morning"--and her laugh went skelloching up the street.
"Well, ye see," said Gibson, with a grin, "I expect Mr. Wilson to
present me with one when he hears the news that I have brought him."
"Aha!" said she, "it's something good, then," and she stuck her arms
akimbo.--"James!" she shrilled, "James!" and the red-haired boy shot
from the back premises.
"Run up to the Red Lion, and see if your father has finished his crack
wi' Templandmuir. Tell him Mr. Gibson wants to see him on important
business."
The boy squinted once at the visitor, and scooted, the red head of him
foremost.
While Gibson waited and clawed his chin she examined him narrowly.
Suspicion as to the object of his visit fixed her attention on his face.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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