Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 08
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 08
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
"'Dinna tell me it's nonsense,' said she, 'for I'll be spoken to in na
sic way--I'll let you ken that. But how meikle has it cost ye? Ye wad be
treating them, nae doubt--and how meikle hae ye spent, if it be a fair
question?'
"'Toots, Tibby!' said I, 'whar's the cause for a' this? What great deal
could it cost me?'
"'But hair by hair makes the carle's head bare,' added she--'mind ye
that; and mind ye that ye've a house to keep aboon your head noo. But,
if ye canna do it, I maun do it for ye--sae gie me the key o' that
kist--gie me it instantly; and I'll tak care how ye gang drinkin wi' ony
body and treatin them till mornin again.'
"For the sake o' peace I gied her the key; for she was speakin sae loud
that I thocht a' the neebors wad hear--and she had nae suner got it,
than awa she gaed to the kist and counted every shilling. I had nae
great abundance then mair than I've now; and--
"'Is that a' ye hae?' said she; 'an' yet ye'll think o' gaun drinkin and
treatin folk frae Saturday nicht till Sabbath mornin! If this is the
life ye intend to lead, I wush to guidness I had ne'er had onything to
say to ye.'
"'And if this is the life ye intend to lead me,' thought I, 'I wush the
same thing.'
"But that was but the beginnin o' my slavery. From that hour to this she
has continued on from bad to worse. No man livin can form an idea o'
what I've suffered but mysel. In a mornin, or rather, I may say, in a
forenoon, for it was aye nine or ten o'clock afore she got up, she sat
doun to her tea and white scones and butter, while I had to be content
wi' a scrimpit bicker o' brose and sour milk for kitchen. Nor was this
the warst o't; for, when I cam in frae my wark for my breakfast, mornin
after mornin, the fire was black out; and there had I, before I could
get a bite to put in my mouth, to bend doun upon my knees and blaw it,
and blaw it, till I was half-blind wi' ashes--for we hadna a pair o'
bellowses; and there wad she lie grumblin a' the time, ca'in me useless
_this_, and useless _that_; and I just had to put up wi' it. But, after
our first bairn was born, she grew far warse, and I becam mair and mair
miserable every day. If I had been sleeping through the nicht, and the
bairn had begun a kickin, or whingin--then she was at the scoldin, and I
was sure to be started out o' my sleep wi' a great drive atween the
shouthers, and her crying--
"'Get up, ye lazy body, ye--get up, and see what's the maiter wi' this
bairn.'
"An' this was the trade half-a-dizen o' times in a nicht.
"At last, there was ae day, when a' that I had dune was simply saying a
word about the denner no bein ready, and afore ever I kenned whar I was,
a cracky-stool that she had bought for the bairn cam fleein across the
room, and gied me a dirl on the elbow, that made me think my arm was
broken. Ye may guess what a stroke it was, when I tell ye I couldna lift
my hand to my head for a week to come. Noo, the like o' that, ye ken,
was what mortal man couldna stand.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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