Clergy -- Fiction; Country life -- Scotland -- Fiction; Deception -- Fiction; Romanies -- Fiction; Scotland -- Fiction
"I sank back in the chair in fair bewilderment, for I didna ken at
that time, as we a' ken now, that she was thinking o' the earl
when I was thinking o' her son. Dominie, it looked to me as if the
Lord had opened a door to me, and syne shut it in my face.
"Syne wi' me sitting there in a kind o' awe o' the woman's
simpleness, she began to tell me what the minister was like when
he was a bairn, and I was saying a' the time to mysel', 'You're
chief elder o' the kirk, Tammas Whamond, and you maun speak out
the next time she stops to draw breath.' They were terrible sma',
common things she telled me, sic as near a' mithers minds about
their bairns, but the kind o' holy way she said them drove my
words down my throat, like as if I was some infidel man trying to
break out wi' blasphemy in a--kirk.
"'I'll let you see something,' says she, 'that I ken will interest
you .' She brocht it out o' a drawer, and what do you thitik it
was? As sure as death it was no more than some o' his hair when he
was a litlin, and it was tied up sic carefully in paper that you
would hae thocht it was some valuable thing.
"'Mr. Whamond,' she says solemnly, 'you've come thrice to the
manse to keep me frae being uneasy about my son's absence, and you
was the chief instrument under God in bringing him to Thrums, and
I'll gie you a little o' that hair.'
"Dagont, what did I care about his hair? and yet to see her
fondling it! I says to myself, 'Mrs. Dishart,' I says to mysel',
'I was the chief instrument under God in bringing him to Thrums,
and I've come here to tell you that I'm to be the chief instrument
under God in driving him out o't.' Ay, but when I focht to bring
out these words, my mouth snecked like a box.
"'Dinna gie me his hair,' was a' I could say, and I wouldna take
it frae her; but she laid it in my hand, and--and syne what could
I do? Ay, it's easy to speak about thae things now, and to wonder
how I could hae so disgraced the position o' chief elder o' the
kirk, but I tell you I was near greeting for the woman. Call me
names, dominie; I deserve them all."
I did not call Whamond names for being reluctant to break
Margaret's heart. Here is a confession I may make. Sometimes I say
my prayers at night in a hurry, going on my knees indeed, but with
as little reverence as I take a drink of water before jumping into
bed, and for the same reason, because it is my nightly habit. I am
only pattering words I have by heart to a chair then, and should
be as well employed writing a comic Bible. At such times I pray
for the earthly well-being of the precentor, though he has been
dead for many years. He crept into my prayers the day he told me
this story, and was part of them for so long that when they are
only a recitation he is part of them still.
"She said to me," Whamond continued, "that the women o' the
congregation would be fond to handle the hair. Could I tell her
that the women was waur agin him than the men? I shivered to hear
her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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