CHAPTER XVII
IN WHICH TOMMY SOLVES THE WOMAN PROBLEM
Pity made Elspeth want to like the Painted Lady's child now, but her ownrules of life were all from a book never opened by Grizel, who made herreligion for herself and thought God a swear; she also despised Elspethfor being so dependent on Tommy, and Elspeth knew it. The two greatsubjects being barred thus, it was not likely that either girl, despitesome attempts on Elspeth's part, should find out the best that was inthe other, without which friendship has no meaning, and they would havegone different ways had not Tommy given an arm to each. He, indeed, hadas little in common with Grizel, for most conspicuous of his traits wasthe faculty of stepping into other people's shoes and remaining thereuntil he became someone else; his individuality consisted in havingnone, while she could only be herself and was without tolerance forthose who were different; he had at no time in his life the least desireto make other persons like himself, but if they were not like Grizel sherocked her arms and cried, "Why, why, why?" which is the mark of the"womanly" woman. But his tendency to be anyone he was interested inimplied enormous sympathy (for the time being), and though Grizelspurned his overtures, this only fired his pride of conquest. We can allget whatever we want if we are quite determined to have it (though it bea king's daughter), and in the end Tommy vanquished Grizel. How? Byoffering to let her come into Aaron's house and wash it and dust it andca'm it, "just as if you were our mother," an invitation she could notresist. To you this may seem an easy way, but consider the penetrationhe showed in thinking of it. It came to him one day when he saw her liftthe smith's baby out of the gutter, and hug it with a passionate delightin babies.
"She's so awid to do it," he said basely to Elspeth, "that we needna leton how much we want it done." And he also mentioned her eagerness toAaron as a reason why she should be allowed to do it for nothing.
For Aaron to hold out against her admittance would have been to defraudhimself, for she transformed his house. When she saw the brass lining ofthe jelly-pan discolored, and that the stockings hanging from the stringbeneath the mantelpiece had given way where the wearers were hardest onthem; when she found dripping adhering to a cold frying-pan instead ofin a "pig," and the pitcher leaking and the carrot-grater stopped--whenthese and similar discoveries were made by Grizel, was it a squeal ofhorror she gave that such things should be, or a cry of rapture becauseto her had fallen the task of setting them right?
"She just made a jump for the besom," was Tommy's graphic description ofhow it all began.
You should have seen Grizel on the hoddy-table knocking nails into thewall. The hoddy-table is so called because it goes beneath the largerone at night, like a chicken under its mother, and Grizel, with thenails in her mouth, used them up so quickly that you would have swornshe swallowed half of them; yet she rocked her arms because she couldnot be at all four walls at once. She rushed about the room until shewas dizzy, and Tommy knew the moment to cry "Grip her, she'll tumble!"when he and Elspeth seized her and put her on a stool.
It is on the hoddy-table that you bake and iron. "There's not abaking-board in the house," Elspeth explained. "There is!" cried Grizel,there and then converting a drawer into one.
Between her big bannocks she made baby ones, for no better reason thanthat she was so fond of babies, and she kissed the baby ones and said,"Oh, the loves, they are just sweet!" and she felt for them when Tommytook a bite. She could go so quickly between the board and the girdlethat she was always at one end of the course or the other, but nevergave you time to say at which end, and on the limited space round thefire she could balance such a number of bannocks that they were as mucha wonder as the Lord's prayer written on a sixpence. Such a vigilant eyeshe kept on them, too, that they dared not fall. Yet she had never beentaught to bake; a good-natured neighbor had now and again allowed her tolook on.
Then her ironing! Even Aaron opened his mouth on this subject, Blinderbeing his confidant. "I thought there was a smell o' burning," he said,"and so I went butt the house; but man, as soon as my een lighted on herI minded of my mother at the same job. The crittur was so busy with herwork that she looked as if, though the last trumpet had blawn, she wouldjust have cried, 'I canna come till my ironing's done!' Ay, I went benwithout a word."
But best of all was to see Grizel "redding up" on a Saturday afternoon.Where were Tommy and Elspeth then? They were shut up in the coffin-bedto be out of the way, and could scarce have told whether they fledthither or were wrapped into it by her energetic arms. Even Aaron darednot cross the floor until it was sanded. "I believe," he said, trying tojest, "you would like to shut me up in the bed too!" "I should just loveit," she cried, eagerly; "will you go?" It is an inferior woman who hasa sense of humor when there is a besom in her hand.
Thus began great days to Grizel, "sweet" she called them, for she hadmany of her mother's words, and a pretty way of emphasizing them withher plain face that turned them all into superlatives. But though Tommyand Elspeth were her friends now, her mouth shut obstinately the momentthey mentioned the Painted Lady; she regretted ever having given Tommyher confidence on that subject, and was determined not to do so again.He did not dare tell her that he had once been at the east window of herhome, but often he and Elspeth spoke to each other of that adventure,and sometimes they woke in their garret bed thinking they heard thehorseman galloping by. Then they crept closer to each other, andwondered whether Grizel was cosey in her bed or stalking an eerie figurein the Den.
Aaron said little, but he was drawn to the girl, who had not theself-consciousness of Tommy and Elspeth in his presence, and sometimeshe slipped a penny into her hand. The pennies were not spent, they werehoarded for the fair, or Muckle Friday, or Muckley, great day of theyear in Thrums. If you would know how Tommy was making ready for thismighty festival, listen.
One of his sources of income was the _Mentor_, a famous London weeklypaper, which seemed to visitors to be taken in by every person ofposition in Thrums. It was to be seen not only in parlors, but on thearmchair at the Jute Bank, in the gauger's gig, in the Spittal factor'sdog-cart, on a shoemaker's form, protruding from Dr. McQueen's tailpocket and from Mr. Duthie's oxter pocket, on Cathro's school-desk, inthe Rev. Mr. Dishart's study, in half a dozen farms. Miss Ailiecompelled her little servant, Gavinia, to read the _Mentor_, and stoodover her while she did it; the phrase, "this week's," meant this week's_Mentor_. Yet the secret must be told: only one copy of the paper cameto Thrums weekly; it was subscribed for by the whole reading publicbetween them, and by Miss Ailie's influence Tommy had become the boy whocarried it from house to house.
This brought him a penny a week, but so heavy were his incidentalexpenses that he could have saved little for the Muckley had not anotherorganization given him a better chance. It was a society, newly started,for helping the deserving poor; they had to subscribe not less than apenny weekly to it, and at the end of the year each subscriber was to begiven fuel, etc., to the value of double what he or she had put in. "Thethree Ps" was a nickname given to the society by Dr. McQueen, because itclaimed to distribute "Peats and Potatoes with Propriety," but he wasone of its heartiest supporters nevertheless. The history of thissociety in the first months of its existence not only shows how Tommybecame a moneyed man, but gives a glimpse into the character of those itbenefited.
Miss Ailie was treasurer, and the pennies were to be brought to her onMonday evenings between the hours of seven and eight. The first Mondayevening found her ready in the school-room, in her hand the famouspencil that wrote red with the one end and blue with the other; by herside her assistant, Mr. T. Sandys, a pen balanced on his ear. For awhole hour did they wait, but though many of the worthiest poor had beenenrolled as members, the few who appeared with their pennies werenotoriously riff-raff. At eight Miss Ailie disconsolately sent Tommyhome, but he was back in five minutes.
"There's a mask of them," he told her, excitedly, "hanging about, butfeared to come in because the others would see them. They're ashamed tohave it kent that they belong
to a charity society, and Meggy Robbie iswandering round the Dovecot wi' her penny wrapped in a paper, and WattyRattray and Ronny-On is walking up and down the brae pretending theydinna ken one another, and auld Connacher's Jeanie Ann says she has beenfour times round the town waiting for Kitty Elshioner to go away, andthere's a one-leggit man hodding in the ditch, and Tibbie Birse is outwi' a lantern counting them."
Miss Ailie did not know what to do. "Here's Jeanie Ann's penny," Tommycontinued, opening his hand, "and this is three bawbees frae KittyElshioner and you and me is no to tell a soul they've joined."
A furtive tapping was heard at the door. It was Ronny-On, who hadskulked forward with twopence, but Gavinia answered his knock, so hejust said, "Ay, Gavinia, it's yoursel'. Well, I'll be stepping," andwould have retired had not Miss Ailie caught him. Even then he said,"Three bawbees is to you to lay by, and one bawbee to Gavinia no totell."
To next Monday evening Miss Ailie now looked with apprehension, butTommy lay awake that night until, to use a favorite crow of his, he"found a way." He borrowed the school-mistress's blue-and-red pencil andsought the houses of the sensitive poor with the following effect. Onesample will suffice; take him at the door of Meggy Robbie in the WestMuir, which he flung open with the effrontery of a tax-collector.
"You're a three P," he said, with a wave of his pencil.
"I'm no sic thing!" cried the old lady.
"It winna do, woman," Tommy said sternly. "Miss Ailie telled me you paidin your first penny on the chap of ten." He wetted the pencil on histongue to show that it was vain to trifle with him, and Meggy bowed herhead.
"It'll be through the town that I've joined," she moaned, but Tommyexplained that he was there to save her.
"I'm willing to come to your house," he said, "and collect the moneyevery week, and not a soul will I tell except the committee."
"Kitty Elshioner would see you coming," said Meggy.
"No, no, I'll creep yont the hedge and climb the hen-house."
"But it would be a' found out at any rate," she remembered, "when I gofor the peats and things at Hogmanay."
"It needna be," eagerly replied Tommy. "I'll bring them to you in abarrow in the dead o' night."
"Could you?" she cried passionately, and he promised he would, and itmay be mentioned here that he did.
"And what for yoursel'?" she inquired.
"A bawbee," he said, "the night afore the Muckley."
The bargain was made, but before he could get away, "Tell me, laddie,"said Meggy, coaxingly, "has Kitty Elshioner joined?" They were all ascurious to know who had joined as they were anxious to keep their ownmembership a secret; but Tommy betrayed none, at least none who agreedto his proposal. There were so many of these that on the night beforethe Muckley he had thirteen pence.
"And you was doing good all the time you was making the thirteen pence,"Elspeth said, fondly. "I believe that was the reason you did it."
"I believe it was!" Tommy exclaimed. He had not thought of this before,but it was easy to him to believe anything.