Clergy -- Fiction; Love stories; Scotland -- Fiction
"The words came to my mouth, 'They'll never be finished,' and I could
hae cursed mysel' for no saying them. I dinna ken how it was, but
there was something pitiful in seeing her take up the mittens and
begin working cheerily at one, and me kenning all the time that they
would never be finished. I watched her fingers, and I said to mysel',
'Another stitch, and that maun be your last.' I said that to mysel'
till I thocht it was the needle that said it, and I wondered at her no
hearing.
"In the tail o' the day I says, 'You needna bother; he'll never wear
them,' and they sounded sic words o' doom that I rose up off the
chair. Ay, but she took me up wrang, and she said, 'I see you have
noticed how careless o' his ain comforts he is, and that in his zeal
he forgets to put on his mittens, though they may be in his pocket a'
the time. Ay,' says she, confident-like, 'but he winna forget these
mittens, Mr. Whamond, and I'll tell you the reason: it's because
they're his mother's work.'
"I stamped my foot, and she gae me an apologetic look, and she says,
'I canna help boasting about his being so fond o' me.'
"Ay, but here was me saying to mysel', 'Do your duty, Tammas Whamond;
you sluggard, do your duty,' and without lifting my een frae her
fingers I said sternly, 'The chances are,' I said, 'that these mittens
will never be worn by the hands they are worked for.'
"'You mean,' says she, 'that he'll gie them awa to some ill-off body,
as he gies near a' thing he has? Ay, but there's one thing he never
parts wi', and that's my work. There's a young lady in the manse the
now,' says she, 'that offered to finish the mittens for me, but he
would value them less if I let ony other body put a stitch into
them.'
"I thocht to mysel', 'Tammas Whamond, the Lord has opened a door to
you, and you'll be disgraced forever if you dinna walk straucht in.'
So I rose again, and I says, boldly this time, 'Whaur's that young
leddy? I hae something to say to her that canna be kept waiting.'
"'She's up the stair,' she says, surprised, 'but you canna ken her,
Mr. Whamond, for she just came last nicht.'
"'I ken mair o' her than you think,' says I; 'I ken what brocht her
here, and ken wha she thinks she is to be married to, and I've come to
tell her that she'll never get him.'
"'How no?' she said, amazed like.
"'Because,' said I, wi' my teeth thegither, 'he is already married.'
"Lads, I stood waiting to see her fall, and when she didna fall I just
waited langer, thinking she was slow in taking it a' in.
"'I see you ken wha she is,' she said, looking at me, 'and yet I canna
credit your news.'
"'They're true,' I cries.
"'Even if they are,' says she, considering, 'it may be the best thing
that could happen to baith o' them.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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