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
"This piece o' impudence completely knocked me stupid, for, wad ye
believe it, Robin, though she had lang driven a' my freends frae about
the house, yet never did ony o' _her_ freends ca'--and that was maistly
every Sunday, and every Coldstream market-day--but there was the bottle
out frae the cupboard, which she aye kept under lock and key; and a
dram, and a bit short-bread nae less, was aye and to this day handed
round to every ane o' them. They hae discovered that it's worth while to
make Patie the bicker-maker's a half-way house. But, if I happen to be
in when they ca', though she pours out a fu' glass a-piece for them, she
takes aye guid care to stand in afore me when she comes to me, between
them and me, so that they canna see what she is doing, or how meikle she
pours out; and, I assure ye, it is seldom a thimblefu' that fa's to my
share, though she hauds the bottle lang up in her hand--mony a time, no
a weetin; and again and again have I shoved my head past her side, and
said, 'Your health, Mrs So-and-so'--or, 'Yours, Mr Such-a-thing,' wi' no
as meikle in my glass as wad droun a midge. Or, if I was sae placed that
she durstna but, for shame, fill a glass within half-an-inch o' the tap
or sae, she wad gie me a look, or a wink, or mak a motion o' some kind,
which weel did I ken the meanin o', and which was the same as
saying--'Drink it if ye daur!' O Robin, man! it's weel for ye that no
kens what it is to be a footba' at your ain fireside. I daresay, my
freend burned at the bane for me; for he got up, and--
"'I wish you good-day, Mr Crichton,' said he; 'I have business in Kelso
to-night yet, and can't stop.'
"I was perfectly overpowered wi' shame; but it was a relief to me when
he gaed awa--and I slipped out after him, and into the shop again.
"But Tibby's isna the only persecution that I hae to put up wi'; for we
hae five bairns, and she's brought them a' up to treat me as she does
hersel. If I offer to correct them, they cry out--'I'll tell my
mither!'--and frae the auldest to the youngest o' them, when they speak
aboot me, it is _he_ did this, or _he_ did that--they for ever talk o'
me as _him!--him!_ I never got the name o' _faither_ frae ane o'
them--and it's a' her doings. Now, I just ask ye simply if ony faither
would put up wi' the like o' that! But I maun put up wi't. If I were
offering to lay hands upon them for't, I am sure and persuaded she wad
raise a' Birgham about me--my life wadna be safe where she is--but,
indeed, I needna say that, for it never is.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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