Stories by English Authors: Scotland (Selected by Scribners)
THE COURTING OF TNOWHEADS BELL, By J. M. Barrie
For two years it had been notorious in the square that Saml Dickie was thinking of courting Tnowheads Bell, and that if Little Sanders Elshioner (which is the Thrums pronunciation of Alexander Alexander) went in for her, he might prove a formidable rival. Saml was a weaver in the tenements, and Sanders a coal-carter, whose trade-mark was a bell on his horses neck that told when coal was coming. Being something of a public man, Sanders had not, perhaps, so high a social position as Saml, but he had succeeded his father on the coal-cart, while the weaver had already tried several trades. It had always been against Saml, too, that once when the kirk was vacant he had advised the selection of the third minister who preached for it on the ground that it became expensive to pay a large number of candidates. The scandal of the thing was hushed up, out of respect for his father, who was a God-fearing man, but Saml was known by it in Lang Tammass circle. The coal-carter was called Little Sanders to distinguish him from his father, who was not much more than half his size. He had grown up with the name, and its inapplicability now came home to nobody. Samls mother had been more far-seeing than Sanderss. Her man had been called Sammy all his life because it was the name he got as a boy, so when their eldest son was born she spoke of him as Saml while still in the cradle. The neighbours imitated her, and thus the young man had a better start in life than had been granted to Sammy, his father.
It was Saturday evening the night in the week when Auld Licht young men fell in love. Saml Dickie, wearing a blue glengarry bonnet with a red ball on the top, came to the door of the one-story house in the tenements, and stood there wriggling, for he was in a suit of tweed for the first time that week, and did not feel at one with them. When his feeling of being a stranger to himself wore off, he looked up and down the road, which straggles between houses and gardens, and then, picking his way over the puddles, crossed to his fathers hen-house and sat down on it. He was now on his way to the square.
Eppie Fargus was sitting on an adjoining dyke knitting stockings, and Saml looked at her for a time.
Ist yersel, Eppie? he said at last.
Its a that, said Eppie.
Hoos a wi ye? asked Saml.
Were juist aff an on, replied Eppie, cautiously.
There was not much more to say, but as Saml sidled off the hen-house he murmured politely, Ay, ay. In another minute he would have been fairly started, but Eppie resumed the conversation.
Saml, she said, with a twinkle in her eye, ye can tell Lisbeth Fargus Ill likely be drappin in on her aboot Mununday or Teisday.
Lisbeth was sister to Eppie, and wife of Tammas McQuhatty, better known as Tnowhead, which was the name of his farm. She was thus Bells mistress.
Saml leaned against the hen-house as if all his desire to depart had gone.
Hoo d ye kin Ill be at the Tnowhead the nicht? he asked, grinning in anticipation.
Ou, Ise warrant yell be after Bell, said Eppie.
Am no sae sure o that, said Saml, trying to leer. He was enjoying himself now.
Am no sure o that, he repeated, for Eppie seemed lost in stitches.
Saml!
Ay.
Yell be speerin her sune noo, I dinna doot?
This took Saml, who had only been courting Bell for a year or two, a little aback.
Hoo d ye mean, Eppie? he asked.
Maybe yell do t the nicht.
Na, theres nae hurry, said Saml.
Weel, were a coontin on t, Saml.
Gae wa wi ye.
What for no?
Gae wa wi ye, said Saml again.
Bells gei an fond o ye, Saml.
Ay, said Saml.
But am dootin yere a fell billy wi the lasses.
Ay, oh, I dna kin; moderate, moderate, said Saml, in high delight.
I saw ye, said Eppie, speaking with a wire in her mouth, gaein on terrble wi Mysy Haggart at the pump last Saturday.
We was juist amoosin oorsels, said Saml.
Itll be nae amoosement to Mysy, said Eppie, gin ye brak her heart.
Losh, Eppie, said Saml, I didna think o that.
Ye maun kin weel, Saml, at theres mony a lass wid jump at ye.
Ou, weel, said Saml, implying that a man must take these things as they come.
For yere a dainty chield to look at, Saml.
Do ye think so, Eppie? Ay, ay; oh, I dna kin am onything by the ordinar.
Ye mayna be, said Eppie, but lasses doesna do to be ower-partikler.
Saml resented this, and prepared to depart again.
Yell no tell Bell that? he asked, anxiously.
Tell her what?
Aboot me an Mysy.
Well see hoo ye behave yersel, Saml.
No at I care, Eppie; ye can tell her gin ye like. I widna think twice o tellin her mysel.
The Lord forgie ye for leein, Saml, said Eppie, as he disappeared down Tammy Toshs close. Here he came upon Henders Webster.
Yere late, Saml, said Henders.
What for?
Ou, I was thinkin ye wid be gaen the length o Tnowhead the nicht, an I saw Sanders Elshioner makkin s wy there an oor syne.
Did ye? cried Saml, adding craftily, but its naething to me.
Tod, lad, said Henders, gin ye dinna buckle to, Sandersll be carryin her off.
Saml flung back his head and passed on.
Saml! cried Henders after him.
Ay, said Saml, wheeling round.
Gie Bell a kiss frae me.
The full force of this joke struck neither all at once. Saml began to smile at it as he turned down the school-wynd, and it came upon Henders while he was in his garden feeding his ferret. Then he slapped his legs gleefully, and explained the conceit to Willum Byars, who went into the house and thought it over.
There were twelve or twenty little groups of men in the square, which was lit by a flare of oil suspended over a cadgers cart. Now and again a staid young woman passed through the square with a basket on her arm, and if she had lingered long enough to give them time, some of the idlers would have addressed her. As it was, they gazed after her, and then grinned to each other.
Ay, Saml, said two or three young men, as Saml joined them beneath the town clock.
Ay, Davit, replied Saml.
This group was composed of some of the sharpest wits in Thrums, and it was not to be expected that they would let this opportunity pass. Perhaps when Saml joined them he knew what was in store for him.
Was ye lookin for Tnowheads Bell, Saml? asked one.
Or mebbe ye was wantin the minister? suggested another, the same who had walked out twice with Chirsty Duff and not married her after all.
Saml could not think of a good reply at the moment, so he laughed good-naturedly.
Ondootedly shes a snod bit crittur, said Davit, archly.
An michty clever wi her fingers, added Jamie Deuchars.
Man, Ive thocht o makkin up to Bell mysel, said Pete Ogle. Wid there be ony chance, think ye, Saml?
Im thinkin she widna hae ye for her first, Pete, replied Saml, in one of those happy flashes that come to some men, but theres nae sayin but what she micht tak ye to finish up wi.
The unexpectedness of this sally startled every one. Though Saml did not set up for a wit, however, like Davit, it was notorious that he could say a cutting thing once in a way.
Did ye ever see Bell reddin up? asked Pete, recovering from his overthrow. He was a man who bore no malice.
Its a sicht, said Saml, solemnly.
Hoo will that be? asked Jamie Deuchars.
Its weel worth yer while, said Pete, to ging atower to the Tnowhead an see. Yell mind the closed-in beds i the kitchen? Ay, weel, theyre a fell spoiled crew, Tnowheads litlins, an no that aisy to manage. Th ither lasses Lisbeths haen had a michty trouble wi them. When they war i the middle o their reddin up the bairns wid come tumlin aboot the floor, but, sal, I assure ye, Bell didna fash lang wi them. Did she, Saml?
She did not, said Saml, dropping into a fine mode of speech to add emphasis to his remark.
Ill tell ye what she did, said Pete to the others. She juist lifted up the litlins, twa at a time, an flung them into the coffin-beds. Syne she snibbit the doors on them, an keepit them there till the floor was dry.
Ay, man, did she so? said Davit, admiringly.
Ive seen her do t mysel, said Saml.
Theres no a lassie maks better bannocks this side o Fetter Lums, continued Pete.
Her mither tocht her that, said Saml; she was a gran han at the bakin, Kitty Ogilvy.
Ive heard say, remarked Jamie, putting it this way so as not to tie himself down to anything, at Bells scones is equal to Mag Lunans.
So they are, said Saml, almost fiercely.
I kin shes a neat han at singein a hen, said Pete.
An wi t a, said Davit, shes a snod, canty bit stocky in her Sabbath claes.
If onything, thick in the waist, suggested Jamie.
I dinna see that, said Saml.
I dna care for her hair, either, continued Jamie, who was very nice in his tastes; something mair yallowchy wid be an improvement.
Abody kins, growled Saml, at black hairs the bonniest.
The others chuckled.
Puir Saml! Pete said.
Saml, not being certain whether this should be received with a smile or a frown, opened his mouth wide as a kind of compromise. This was position one with him for thinking things over.
Few Auld Lichts, as I have said, went the length of choosing a helpmate for themselves. One day a young mans friends would see him mending the washing-tub of a maidens mother. They kept the joke until Saturday night, and then he learned from them what he had been after. It dazed him for a time, but in a year or so he grew accustomed to the idea, and they were then married. With a little help he fell in love just like other people.
Saml was going the way of the others, but he found it difficult to come to the point. He only went courting once a week, and he could never take up the running at the place where he left off the Saturday before. Thus he had not, so far, made great headway. His method of making up to Bell had been to drop in at Tnowhead on Saturday nights and talk with the farmer about the rinderpest.
The farm kitchen was Bells testimonial. Its chairs, tables, and stools were scoured by her to the whiteness of Rob Anguss sawmill boards, and the muslin blind on the window was starched like a childs pinafore. Bell was brave, too, as well as energetic. Once Thrums had been overrun with thieves. It is now thought that there may have been only one, but he had the wicked cleverness of a gang. Such was his repute that there were weavers who spoke of locking their doors when they went from home. He was not very skilful, however, being generally caught, and when they said they knew he was a robber, he gave them their things back and went away. If they had given him time there is no doubt that he would have gone off with his plunder. One night he went to Tnowhead, and Bell, who slept in the kitchen, was awakened by the noise. She knew who it would be, so she rose and dressed herself, and went to look for him with a candle. The thief had not known what to do when he got in, and as it was very lonely he was glad to see Bell. She told him he ought to be ashamed of himself, and would not let him out by the door until he had taken off his boots so as not to soil the carpet.
On this Saturday evening Saml stood his ground in the square, until by-and-by he found himself alone. There were other groups there still, but his circle had melted away. They went separately, and no one said good-night. Each took himself off slowly, backing out of the group until he was fairly started.
Saml looked about him, and then, seeing that the others had gone, walked round the town-house into the darkness of the brae that leads down and then up to the farm of Tnowhead.
To get into the good graces of Lisbeth Fargus you had to know her ways and humour them. Saml, who was a student of women, knew this, and so, instead of pushing the door open and walking in, he went through the rather ridiculous ceremony of knocking. Sanders Elshioner was also aware of this weakness of Lisbeths, but though he often made up his mind to knock, the absurdity of the thing prevented his doing so when he reached the door. Tnowhead himself had never got used to his wifes refined notions, and when any one knocked he always started to his feet, thinking there must be something wrong.
Lisbeth came to the door, her expansive figure blocking the way in.
Saml, she said.
Lisbeth, said Saml.
He shook hands with the farmers wife, knowing that she liked it, but only said, Ay, Bell, to his sweetheart, Ay, Tnowhead, to McQuhatty, and Its yersel, Sanders, to his rival.
They were all sitting round the fire; Tnowhead, with his feet on the ribs, wondering why he felt so warm; and Bell darned a stocking, while Lisbeth kept an eye on a goblet full of potatoes.
Sit into the fire, Saml, said the farmer, not, however, making way for him.
Na, na, said Saml; Im to bide nae time. Then he sat into the fire. His face was turned away from Bell, and when she spoke he answered her without looking round. Saml felt a little anxious. Sanders Elshioner, who had one leg shorter than the other, but looked well when sitting, seemed suspiciously at home. He asked Bell questions out of his own head, which was beyond Saml, and once he said something to her in such a low voice that the others could not catch it. Tnowhead asked curiously what it was, and Sanders explained that he had only said, Ay, Bell, the morns the Sabbath. There was nothing startling in this, but Saml did not like it. He began to wonder if he were too late, and had he seen his opportunity would have told Bell of a nasty rumour that Sanders intended to go over to the Free Church if they would make him kirk officer.
Saml had the good-will of Tnowheads wife, who liked a polite man. Sanders did his best, but from want of practice he constantly made mistakes. To-night, for instance, he wore his hat in the house because he did not like to put up his hand and take it off. Tnowhead had not taken his off, either, but that was because he meant to go out by-and-by and lock the byre door. It was impossible to say which of her lovers Bell preferred. The proper course with an Auld Licht lassie was to prefer the man who proposed to her.
Yell bide a wee, an hae something to eat? Lisbeth asked Saml, with her eyes on the goblet.
No, I thank ye, said Saml, with true gentility.