"I say nothing about the disgrace you have brought on this house," the warper4 began without emotion, "for it has been a shamed house since afore you were born, and it's a small offence to skail on a clarty floor. But now I've done more for you than I promised Jean Myles to do, and you had your pick atween college and the herding6, and the herding you've chosen twice. I call you no names, you ken7 best what you're fitted for, but I've seen the farmer of the Dubb of Prosen the day, and he was short-handed through the loss of Tod Lindertis, so you're fee'd to him. Dinna think you get Tod's place, it'll be years afore you rise to that, but it's right and proper that as he steps up, you should step down."
"The Dubb of Prosen!" cried Tommy in dismay. "It's fifteen miles frae here."
"It's a' that."
"But—but—but Elspeth and me never thought of my being so far away that she couldna see me. We thought of a farmer near Thrums."
"The farther you're frae her the better," said Aaron, uneasily, yet honestly believing what he said.
"It'll kill her," Tommy cried fiercely. With only his own suffering to consider he would probably have nursed it into a play through which he stalked as the noble child of misfortune, but in his anxiety for Elspeth he could still forget himself. "Fine you ken she canna do without me," he screamed.
"She maun be weaned," replied the warper, with a show of temper; he was convinced that the sooner Elspeth learned to do without Tommy the better it would be for herself in the end, but in his way of regarding the boy there was also a touch of jealousy8, pathetic rather than forbidding. To him he left the task of breaking the news to Elspeth; and Tommy, terrified lest she should swoon under it, was almost offended when she remained calm. But, alas9, the reason was that she thought she was going with him.
"Will we have to walk all the way to the Dubb of Prosen?" she asked, quite brightly, and at that Tommy twisted about in misery10. "You are no—you canna—" he began, and then dodged11 the telling. "We—we may get a lift in a cart," he said weakly.
"And I'll sit aside you in the fields, and make chains o' the gowans, will I no? Speak, Tommy!"
"Ay—ay, will you," he groaned12.
"And we'll have a wee, wee room to oursels, and—"
He broke down, "Oh, Elspeth," he cried, "it was ill-done of me no to stick to my books, and get a bursary, and it was waur o' me to bother about that word. I'm a scoundrel, I am, I'm a black, I'm a—"
But she put her hand on his mouth, saying, "I'm fonder o' you than ever, Tommy, and I'll like the Dubb o' Prosen fine, and what does it matter where we are when we're thegither?" which was poor comfort for him, but still he could not tell her the truth, and so in the end Aaron had to tell her. It struck her down, and the doctor had to be called in during the night to stop her hysterics. When at last she fell asleep Tommy's arm was beneath her, and by and by it was in agony, but he set his teeth and kept it there rather than risk waking her.
When Tommy was out of the way, Aaron did his clumsy best to soothe13 her, sometimes half shamefacedly pressing her cheek to his, and she did not repel14 him, but there was no response. "Dinna take on in that way, dawtie," he would say, "I'll be good to you."
"But you're no Tommy," Elspeth answered.
"I'm not, I'm but a stunted15 tree, blasted in my youth, but for a' that I would like to have somebody to care for me, and there's none to do't, Elspeth, if you winna. I'll gang walks wi' you, I'll take you to the fishing, I'll come to the garret at night to hap3 you up, I'll—I'll teach you the games I used to play mysel'. I'm no sure but what you might make something o' me yet, bairn, if you tried hard."
"But you're no Tommy," Elspeth wailed16 again, and when he advised her to put Tommy out of her mind for a little and speak of other things, she only answered innocently, "What else is there to speak about?"
Mr. McLean had sent Tommy a pound, and so was done with him, but Ailie still thought him a dear, though no longer a wonder, and Elspeth took a strange confession17 to her, how one night she was so angry with God that she had gone to bed without saying her prayers. She had just meant to keep Him in suspense18 for a little, and then say them, but she fell asleep. And that was not the worst, for when she woke in the morning, and saw that she was still living, she was glad she had not said them. But next night she said them twice.
And this, too, is another flash into her dark character. Tommy, who never missed saying his prayers and could say them with surprising quickness, told her, "God is fonder of lonely lassies than of any other kind, and every time you greet it makes Him greet, and when you're cheerful it makes Him cheerful too." This was meant to dry her eyes, but it had not that effect, for, said Elspeth, vindictively19, "Well, then, I'll just make Him as miserable20 as I can."
When Tommy was merely concerned with his own affairs he did not think much about God, but he knew that no other could console Elspeth, and his love for her usually told him the right things to say, and while he said them, he was quite carried away by his sentiments and even wept over them, but within the hour he might be leering. They were beautiful, and were repeated of course to Mrs. McLean, who told her husband of them, declaring that this boy's love for his sister made her a better woman.
"But nevertheless," said Ivie, "Mr. Cathro assures me—"
"He is prejudiced," retorted Mrs. McLean warmly, prejudice being a failing which all women marvel22 at. "Just listen to what the boy said to Elspeth to-day. He said to her, 'When I am away, try for a whole day to be better than you ever were before, and think of nothing else, and then when prayer-time comes you will see that you have been happy without knowing it.' Fancy his finding out that."
"I wonder if he ever tried it himself?" said Mr. McLean.
"Ivie, think shame of yourself!"
"Well, even Cathro admits that he has a kind of cleverness, but—"
"Cleverness!" exclaimed Ailie, indignantly, "that is not cleverness, it is holiness;" and leaving the cynic she sought Elspeth, and did her good by pointing out that a girl who had such a brother should try to save him pain. "He is very miserable, dear," she said, "because you are so unhappy. If you looked brighter, think how that would help him, and it would show that you are worthy23 of him." So Elspeth went home trying hard to look brighter, but made a sad mess of it.
"Think of getting letters frae me every time the post comes in!" said Tommy, and then indeed her face shone.
And then Elspeth could write to him—yes, as often as ever she liked! This pleased her even more. It was such an exquisite24 thought that she could not wait, but wrote the first one before he started, and he answered it across the table. And Mrs. McLean made a letter bag, with two strings25 to it, and showed her how to carry it about with her in a safer place than a pocket.
Then a cheering thing occurred. Came Corp, with the astounding26 news that, in the Glenquharity dominie's opinion, Tommy should have got the Hugh Blackadder.
"He says he is glad he wasna judge, because he would have had to give you the prize, and he laughs like to split at the ministers for giving it to Lauchlan McLauchlan."
Now, great was the repute of Mr. Ogilvy, and Tommy gaped27 incredulous. "He had no word of that at the time," he said.
"No likely! He says if the ministers was so doited as to think his loon28 did best, it wasna for him to conter them."
"Man, Corp, you ca'me me aff my feet! How do you ken this?"
Corp had promised not to tell, and he thought he did not tell, but Tommy was too clever for him. Grizel, it appeared, had heard Mr. Ogilvy saying this strange thing to the doctor, and she burned to pass it on to Tommy, but she could not carry it to him herself, because—Why was it? Oh, yes, because she hated him. So she made a messenger of Corp, and warned him against telling who had sent him with the news.
Half enlightened, Tommy began to strut29 again. "You see there's something in me for all they say," he told Elspeth. "Listen to this. At the bursary examinations there was some English we had to turn into Latin, and it said, 'No man ever attained
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