James Matthew Barrie - The Complete Works of J. M. Barrie (With Illustrations)

'That's been discuss't in every hoose in Thrums,' said Sam'l, 'but there's no doubt it's high, for it's a salary; ay, it's no wages.'

'I dinna ken what Rob has,' Silva said, 'but some o' thae writers makes awfu' sums. There's the yeditor o' the Tilliedrum Weekly Herald noo. I canna tell his income, but I have it frae Dite Deuchars, wha kens, 'at he pays twa-an'-twenty pound o' rent for's hoose.'

'Ay, but Rob's no a yeditor,' said Sam'l.

'Ye're far below the mark wi' Rob's salary,' said Tammas. 'My ain opeenion is 'at he has a great hoose in London by this time, wi' twa or three servants, an' a lad in knickerbuckers to stan' ahent his chair and reach ower him to cut the roast beef.'

'It may be so,' said Snecky, who had heard of such things, 'but if it is it'll irritate Rob michty no to get cuttin' the roast 'imsel. Thae Anguses aye likit to do a'thing for themsels.'

'There's the poseetion to think o',' said Tammas.

'Thrums'll be a busy toon this nicht,' said Sam'l, 'when it hears the noos. Ay, I maun awa an' tell the wife.'

Having said this, Sam'l sat down on the tombstone.

'It'll send mair laddies on to the papers oot o' Thrums,' said Tammas. 'There's three awa to the printin' trade since Rob was here, an' Susie Byars is to send little Joey to the business as sune as he's auld eneuch.'

'Joey'll do weel in the noospaper line,' said Silva; 'he writes a better han' than Rob Angus already.'

'Weel, weel, that's the main thing, lads.'

Sam'l moved off slowly to take the news into the east town end.

'It's to Rob's creedit,' said Tammas to the two men remaining, ''at he wasna at all prood when he came back. Ay, he called on me very frank like, as ye'll mind, an' I wasna in, so Chirsty dusts a chair for 'im, and comes to look for me. Lads, I was fair ashamed to see 'at in her fluster she'd gien him a common chair, when there was hair-bottomed anes in the other room. Ye may be sure I sent her for a better chair, an' got him to change, though he was sort o' mad like at havin' to shift. That was his ind'pendence again.'

'I was aye callin' him Rob,' said Snecky, 'forgettin' what a grand man he was noo, an', of coorse, I corrected mysel, and said Mr. Angus. Weel, when I'd dune that mebbe a dozen times he was fair stampin's feet wi' rage, as ye micht say. Ay, there was a want o' patience aboot Rob Angus.'

'He slippit a gold sovereign into my hand,' said Silva, 'but, losh, he wudna lat me thank 'im. "Hold yer tongue," he says, or words to that effec', when I insistit on't.'

At the foot of the burying-ground road Sam'l Todd could be seen laying it off about Rob to a little crowd of men and women. Snecky looked at them till he could look no longer.

'I maun awa wi' the noos to the wast toon end,' he said, and by and by he went, climbing the dyke for a short cut.

'Weel, weel, Rob Angus is mairit,' said Silva to Tammas.

'So he is, Silva,' said the stone-breaker.

'It's an experiment,' said Silva.

'Ye may say so, but Rob was aye venturesome.'

'Ye saw the leddy, Tammas?'

'Ay, man, I did mair than that. She spoke to me, an' speired a lot aboot the wy Rob took on when little Davy was fund deid. He was fond o' his fowk, Rob, michty fond.'

'What was your opeenion o' her then, Tammas?'

'Weel, Silva, to tell the truth I was oncommon favourably impreesed. She shook hands wi' me, man, an' she had sic a saft voice an' sic a bonny face I was a kind o' carried awa; yes, I was so.'

'Ay, ye say that, Tammas. Weel, I think I'll be movin'. They'll be keen to hear aboot this in the square.'

'I said to her,' continued Tammas, peering through his half-closed eyes at Silva, ''at Rob was a lucky crittur to get sic a bonny wife.'

'Ye did!' cried Silva. 'An' hoo did she tak that?'

'Ou,' said Tammas complacently, 'she took it weel.'

'I wonder,' said Silva, now a dozen yards away, ''at Rob never sent ony o' the papers he writes to Thrums juist to lat's see them.'

'He sent a heap,' said Tammas, 'to the minister, meanin' them to be passed roond, but Mr. Dishart didna juist think they were quite the thing, ye un'erstan', so he keeps them lockit up in a press.'

'They say in the toon,' said Silva, ''at Rob would never hae got on sae weel if Mr. Dishart hadna helpit him. Do you think there's onything in that?'

Tammas was sunk in reverie, and Silva at last departed. He was out of sight by the time the stone-breaker came to.

'I spoke to the minister aboot it,' Tammas answered, under the impression that Silva was still there, 'an' speired at him if he had sent a line aboot Rob to the London yeditors, but he wudna say.'

Tammas moved his head round, and saw that he was alone.

'No,' he continued thoughtfully, addressing the tombstones, 'he would neither say 'at he did nor 'at he didna. He juist waved his han' like, to lat's see 'at he was at the bottom o't, but didna want it to be spoken o'. Ay, ay.'

Tammas hobbled thoughtfully down one of the steep burying-ground walks, until he came to a piece of sward with no tombstone at its head.

'Ay,' he said, 'there's mony an Angus lies buried there, an' Rob's the only are left noo. I hae helpit to hap the earth ower five, ay, sax o' them. It's no to be expeckit, no, i' the course o' natur' it's no to be expeckit, 'at I should last oot the seventh: no, but there's nae sayin'. Ay, Rob, ye wasna sae fu' o' speerits as I'll waurant ye are the noo, that day ye buried Davy. Losh, losh, it's a queer warld.'

'It's a pretty spot to be buried in,' he muttered, after a time; and then his eyes wandered to another part of the burying-ground.

'Ay,' he said, with a chuckle, 'but I've a snod bit cornery up there for mysel. Ou ay.'

THE END

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Chapter I. The Schoolhouse

Chapter II. Thrums

Chapter III. The Auld Licht Kirk

Chapter IV. Lads and Lasses

Chapter V. The Auld Lichts in Arms

Chapter VI. The Old Dominie

Chapter VII. Cree Queery and Mysy Drolly

Chapter VIII. The Courting of T'nowhead's Bell

Chapter IX. Davit Lunan's Political Reminiscences

Chapter X. A Very Old Family

Chapter XI. Little Rathie's "Bural"

Chapter XII. A Literary Club

Table of Contents

Early this morning I opened a window in my schoolhouse in the glen of Quharity, awakened by the shivering of a starving sparrow against the frosted glass. As the snowy sash creaked in my hand, he made off to the water-spout that suspends its "tangles" of ice over a gaping tank, and, rebounding from that, with a quiver of his little black breast, bobbed through the network of wire and joined a few of his fellows in a forlorn hop round the henhouse in search of food. Two days ago my hilarious bantam-cock, saucy to the last, my cheeriest companion, was found frozen in his own water-trough, the corn-saucer in three pieces by his side. Since then I have taken the hens into the house. At meal-times they litter the hearth with each other's feathers; but for the most part they give little trouble, roosting on the rafters of the low-roofed kitchen among staves and fishing-rods.

Another white blanket has been spread upon the glen since I looked out last night; for over the same wilderness of snow that has met my gaze for a week, I see the steading of Waster Lunny sunk deeper into the waste. The schoolhouse, I suppose, serves similarly as a snowmark for the people at the farm. Unless that is Waster Lunny's grieve foddering the cattle in the snow, not a living thing is visible. The ghostlike hills that pen in the glen have ceased to echo to the sharp crack of the sportsman's gun (so clear in the frosty air as to be a warning to every rabbit and partridge in the valley); and only giant Catlaw shows here and there a black ridge, rearing its head at the entrance to the glen and struggling ineffectually to cast off his shroud. Most wintry sign of all, I think as I close the window hastily, is the open farm-stile, its poles lying embedded in the snow where they were last flung by Waster Lunny's herd. Through the still air comes from a distance a vibration as of a tuning-fork: a robin, perhaps, alighting on the wire of a broken fence.