CHAPTER XVIII
THE MUCKLEY
Every child in Thrums went to bed on the night before the Muckleyhugging a pirly, or, as the vulgar say, a money-box; and all the pirlieswere ready for to-morrow, that is to say, the mouths of them had beenwidened with gully knives by owners now so skilful at the jerk whichsends their contents to the floor that pirlies they were no longer."Disgorge!" was the universal cry, or, in the vernacular, "Out you come,you sweer deevils!"
Not a coin but had its history, not a boy who was unable to pick out hisown among a hundred. The black one came from the 'Sosh, the bent lad hegot for carrying in Ronny-On's sticks. Oh michty me, sure as death hehad nearly forgotten the one with the warts on it. Which to spend first?The goldy one? Na faags, it was ower ill to come by. The scartit one?No, no, it was a lucky. Well, then, the one found in the rat's hole?(That was a day!) Ay, dagont, ay, we'll make the first blatter with it.
It was Tommy's first Muckley, and the report that he had thirteen pencebrought him many advisers about its best investment. Even Corp Shiach(five pence) suspended hostilities for this purpose. "Mind this," hesaid solemnly, "there's none o' the candies as sucks so long asCaliforny's Teuch and Tasty. Other kinds may be sweeter, but Teuch andTasty lasts the longest, and what a grip it has! It pulls out yourteeth!" Corp seemed to think that this was a recommendation.
"I'm nane sure o' Teuch and Tasty," Birkie said. "If you dinna keep awatch on it, it slips ower when you're swallowing your spittle."
"Then you should tie a string to it," suggested Tommy, who was thoughtmore of from that hour.
_Beware of Pickpockets!_ Had it not been for placards with this gloriousannouncement (it is the state's first printed acknowledgment that boysand girls form part of the body politic) you might have thought that thenight before the Muckley was absurdly like other nights. Not a show hadarrived, not a strange dog, no romantic figures were wandering thestreets in search of lodgings, no stands had sprung up in the square.You could pass hours in pretending to fear that when the morning camethere would be no fairyland. And all the time you _knew_.
About ten o'clock Ballingall's cat was observed washing its face, adeliberate attempt to bring on rain. It was immediately put to death.
Tommy and Elspeth had agreed to lie awake all night; if Tommy nippedElspeth, Elspeth would nip Tommy. Other children had made the samearrangement, though the experienced ones were aware that it would fail.If it was true that all the witches were dead, then the streets ofstands and shows and gaming-tables and shooting-galleries were erectedby human hands, and it followed that were you to listen through thenight you must hear the hammers. But always in the watches the god ofthe Muckley came unseen and glued your eyes, as if with Teuch and Tasty,and while you slept--Up you woke with a start. What was it you were tomind as soon as you woke? Listen! That's a drum beating! It's theMuckley! They are all here! It has begun! Oh, michty, michty, michty,whaur's my breeks?
When Tommy, with Elspeth and Grizel, set off excitedly for the town, thecountry folk were already swarming in. The Monypenny road was thick withthem, braw loons in blue bonnets with red bobs to them, tartanwaistcoats, scarves of every color, woollen shirts as gay, and thestrutting wearers in two minds--whether to take off the scarf to displaythe shirt, or hide the shirt and trust to the scarf. Came lassies, too,in wincey bodices they were like to burst through, and they werelistening apprehensively as they ploughed onward for a tearing at theseams. There were red-headed lasses, yellow-chy-headed and black-headed,blue-shawled and red-shawled lasses; boots on every one of them,stockings almost as common, the skirt kilted up for the present, butdown it should go when they were in the thick of things, and then itmust take care of itself. All were solemn and sheepish as yet, but waita bit.
The first-known face our three met was Corp. He was only able to sign tothem, because Californy's specialty had already done its work and gluedhis teeth together. He was off to the smithy to be melted, but gave themto understand that though awkward it was glorious. Then came Birkie, whohad sewn up the mouths of his pockets, all but a small slit in each, asa precaution against pickpockets, and was now at his own request beingheld upside down by the Haggerty-Taggertys on the chance that ahalfpenny which had disappeared mysteriously might fall out. A moretragic figure was Francie Crabb (one and seven pence), who, like a mad,mad thing, had taken all his money to the fair at once. In ten minuteshe had bought fourteen musical instruments.
Tommy and party had not yet reached the celebrated corner of the westtown end where the stands began, but they were near it, and he stoppedto give Grizel and Elspeth his final instructions: "(1) Keep your moneyin your purse, and your purse in your hand, and your hand in yourpocket; (2) if you lose me, I'll give Shovel's whistle, and syne youmaun squeeze and birse your way back to me."
Now then, are you ready? Bang! They were in it. Strike up, ye fiddlers;drums, break; tooters, fifers, at it for your lives; trumpets, blow;bagpipes, skirl; music-boxes, all together now--Tommy has arrived.
Even before he had seen Thrums, except with his mother's eye, Tommy knewthat the wise begin the Muckley by measuring its extent. That the squareand adjoining wynds would be crammed was a law of nature, but boyhooddrew imaginary lines across the Roods, the west town end, the east townend, and the brae, and if the stands did not reach these there had beenretrogression. Tommy found all well in two quarters, got a nasty shockon the brae, but medicine for it in the Roods; on the whole, yelled ahundred children, by way of greeting to each other, a better Muckleythan ever.
From those who loved them best, the more notable Muckleys gotdistinctive names for convenience of reference. As shall beostentatiously shown in its place, there was a Muckley called (and byCorp Shiach, too) after Tommy, but this, his first, was dubbed Sewster'sMuckley, in honor of a seamstress who hanged herself that day in theThree-cornered Wood. Poor little sewster, she had known joyous Muckleystoo, but now she was up in the Three-cornered Wood hanging herself, agednineteen. I know nothing more of her, except that in her maiden dayswhen she left the house her mother always came to the door to lookproudly after her.
How to describe the scene, when owing to the throng a boy could onlypeer at it between legs or through the crook of a woman's arm? Shovelwould have run up ploughmen to get his bird's-eye view, and he couldhave told Tommy what he saw, and Tommy could have made a picture of itin his mind, every figure ten feet high. But perhaps to be lost in itwas best. You had but to dive and come up anywhere to find somethingamazing; you fell over a box of jumping-jacks into a new world.
Everyone to his taste. If you want Tommy's sentiments, here they are,condensed: "The shows surpass everything else on earth. Four streets ofthem in the square! The best is the menagerie, because there is theloudest roaring there. Kick the caravans and you increase the roaring.Admission, however, prohibitive (threepence). More economical to standoutside the show of the 'Mountain Maid and the Shepherd's Bride' andwatch the merriman saying funny things to the monkey. Take care youdon't get in front of the steps, else you will be pressed up by thosebehind and have to pay before you have decided that you want to go in.When you fling pennies at the Mountain Maid and the Shepherd's Bridethey stop play-acting and scramble for them. Go in at night when thereare drunk ploughmen to fling pennies. The Fat Wife with the Golden Lockslets you put your fingers in her arms, but that is soon over. 'TheSlave-driver and his Victims.' Not worth the money; they are notblooding. To Jerusalem and Back in a Jiffy. This is a swindle. You justkeek through holes."
But Elspeth was of a different mind. She liked To Jerusalem and Backbest, and gave the Slave-driver and his Victims a penny to beChristians. The only show she disliked was the wax-work, where wasperformed the "Tragedy of Tiffano and the Haughty Princess." Tiffanoloved the woodman's daughter, and so he would not have the HaughtyPrincess, and so she got a magician to turn him into a pumpkin, and thenshe ate him. What distressed Elspeth was that Tiffano could never get toheaven now, and all the consolation Tommy, doing his best, could giveher was, "He could go, no doub
t he could go, but he would have to takethe Haughty Princess wi' him, and he would be sweer to do that."
Grizel reflected: "If I had a whip like the one the Slave-driver hasshouldn't I lash the boys who hoot my mamma! I wish I could turn boysinto pumpkins. The Mountain Maid wore a beautiful muslin with gold lace,but she does not wash her neck."
Lastly, let Corp have his say: "I looked at the outside of the shows,but always landed back at Californy's stand. Sucking is better nor nearanything. The Teuch and Tasty is stickier than ever. I have lost twateeth. The Mountain Maid is biding all night at Tibbie Birse's, and Iwent in to see her. She had a bervie and a boiled egg to her tea. Shelikes her eggs saft wi' a lick of butter in them. The Fat Wife is theone I like best. She's biding wi' Shilpit Kaytherine on the Tanage Brae.She weighs Jeems and Kaytherine and the sma' black swine. She had aningin to her tea. The Slave-driver's a fushinless body. One o' theVictims gives him his licks. They a' bide in the caravan. You can standon the wheel and keek in. They had herrings wi' the rans to their tea. Icut a hole in Jerusalem and Back, and there was no Jerusalem there. Theman as ocht Jerusalem greets because the Fair Circassian winna take him.He is biding a' night wi' Blinder. He likes a dram in his tea."
Elspeth's money lasted till four o'clock. For Aaron, almost the only manin Thrums who shunned the revels that day, she bought a gingerbreadhouse; and the miraculous powder which must be taken on a sixpence wasto make Blinder see again, but unfortunately he forgot about putting iton the sixpence. And of course there was something for a certain boy.Grizel had completed her purchases by five o'clock, when Tommy was stillheavy with threepence halfpenny. They included a fluffy pink shawl, shedid not say for whom, but the Painted Lady wore it afterwards, and forherself another doll.
"But that doll's leg is broken," Tommy pointed out.
"That was why I bought it," she said warmly, "I feel so sorry for it,the darling," and she carried it carefully so that the poor thing mightsuffer as little pain as possible.
Twice they rushed home for hasty meals, and were back so quickly thatTommy's shadow strained a muscle in turning with him. Night came on,and from a hundred strings stretched along stands and shows there nowhung thousands of long tin things like trumpets. One burning paper couldset a dozen of these ablaze, and no sooner were they lit than a windthat had been biding its time rushed in like the merriman, making thelamps swing on their strings, so that the flaring lights embraced, andfrom a distance Thrums seemed to be on fire.
Even Grizel was willing to hold Tommy's hand now, and the three couldonly move this way and that as the roaring crowd carried them. They werenot looking at the Muckley, they were part of it, and at last Thrums wasall Tommy's fancy had painted it. This intoxicated him, so that he hadto scream at intervals, "We're here, Elspeth, I tell you, we're here!"and he became pugnacious and asked youths twice his size whether theydenied that he was here, and if so, would they come on. In this frenzyhe was seen by Miss Ailie, who had stolen out in a veil to look forGavinia, but just as she was about to reprove him, dreadful men askedher was she in search of a lad, whereupon she fled home and barred thedoor, and later in the evening warned Gavinia, through the key-hole,taking her for a roystering blade, that there were policemen in thehouse, to which the astounding reply of Gavinia, then aged twelve, was,"No sic luck."
With the darkness, too, crept into the Muckley certain devils in thecolor of the night who spoke thickly and rolled braw lads in the mire,and egged on friends to fight and cast lewd thoughts into the minds ofthe women. At first the men had been bashful swains. To the women's "Gieme my faring, Jock," they had replied, "Wait, Jean, till I'm fee'd," butby night most had got their arles, with a dram above it, and he whocould only guffaw at Jean a few hours ago had her round the waist now,and still an arm free for rough play with other kimmers. The Jeans wereas boisterous as the Jocks, giving them leer for leer, running from themwith a giggle, waiting to be caught and rudely kissed. Grand, patient,long-suffering fellows these men were, up at five, summer and winter,foddering their horses, maybe hours before there would be food forthemselves, miserably paid, housed like cattle, and when the rheumatismseized them, liable to be flung aside like a broken graip. As hard wasthe life of the women: coarse food, chaff beds, damp clothes, theirportion; their sweethearts in the service of masters who were reluctantto fee a married man. Is it to be wondered that these lads who could befaithful unto death drank soddenly on their one free day, that thesegirls, starved of opportunities for womanliness, of which they couldmake as much as the finest lady, sometimes woke after a Muckley to wishthat they might wake no more? Our three brushed shoulders with thedevils that had been let loose, but hardly saw them; they heard them,but did not understand their tongue. The eight-o'clock bell had runglong since, and though the racket was as great as ever, it was onlybecause every reveller left now made the noise of two. Mothers were outfishing for their bairns. The Haggerty-Taggertys had straggled homehoarse as crows; every one of them went to bed that night with astocking round his throat. Of Monypenny boys, Tommy could find none inthe square but Corp, who, with another tooth missing, had been goingabout since six o'clock with his pockets hanging out, as a sign that allwas over. An awkward silence had fallen on the trio; the reason, thatTommy had only threepence left and the smallest of them cost threepence.The reference of course is to the wondrous gold-paper packets of sweets(not unlike crackers in appearance) which are only seen at the Muckley,and are what every girl claims of her lad or lads. Now, Tommy had vowedto Elspeth--But he had also said to Grizel--In short, how could he buyfor both with threepence?
Grizel, as the stranger, ought to get--But he knew Elspeth too well tobelieve that she would dry her eyes with that.
Elspeth being his sister--But he had promised Grizel, and she had beenso ill brought up that she said nasty things when you broke your word.
The gold packet was bought. That is it sticking out of Tommy's insidepocket. The girls saw it and knew what was troubling him, but not aword was spoken now between the three. They set off for homeself-consciously, Tommy the least agitated on the whole, because he neednot make up his mind for another ten minutes. But he wished Grizel wouldnot look at him sideways and then rock her arms in irritation. Theypassed many merry-makers homeward bound, many of them following atortuous course, for the Scottish toper gives way first in the legs, theSouthron in the other extremity, and thus between them could beconstructed a man wholly sober and another as drunk as Chloe. But thoughthe highway clattered with many feet, not a soul was in the doubledykes, and at the easy end of that formidable path Grizel came to adetermined stop.
"Good-night," she said, with such a disdainful glance at Tommy.
He had not made up his mind yet, but he saw that it must be done now,and to take a decisive step was always agony to him, though once takenit ceased to trouble. To dodge it for another moment he said, weakly:"Let's--let's sit down a whiley on the dyke."
But Grizel, while coveting the packet, because she had never got apresent in her life, would not shilly-shally.
"Are you to give it to Elspeth?" she asked, with the horrid directnessthat is so trying to an intellect like Tommy's.
"N-no," he said.
"To Grizel?" cried Elspeth.
"N-no," he said again.
It was an undignified moment for a great boy, but the providence thatwatched over Tommy until it tired of him came to his aid in the nick oftime. It took the form of the Painted Lady, who appeared suddenly out ofthe gloom of the Double Dykes. Two of the children jumped, and the thirdclenched her little fists to defend her mamma if Tommy cast a word ather. But he did not; his mouth remained foolishly open. The Painted Ladyhad been talking cheerfully to herself, but she drew backapprehensively, with a look of appeal on her face, and then--and thenTommy "saw a way." He handed her the gold packet, "It's to you," hesaid, "it's--it's your Muckley!"
For a moment she was afraid to take it, but when she knew that thissweet boy's gift was genuine, she fondled it and was greatly flattered,and dropped him the quai
ntest courtesy and then looked defiantly atGrizel. But Grizel did not take it from her. Instead, she flung her armsimpulsively round Tommy's neck, she was so glad, glad, glad.
As Tommy and Elspeth walked away to their home, Elspeth could hear himbreathing heavily, and occasionally he gave her a furtive glance.
"Grizel needna have done that," she said, sharply.
"No," replied Tommy.
"But it was noble of you," she continued, squeezing his hand, "to giveit to the Painted Lady. Did you mean to give it to her a' the time?"
"Oh, Elspeth!"
"But did you?"
"Oh, Elspeth!"
"That's no you greeting, is it?" she asked, softly.
"I'm near the greeting," he said truthfully, "but I'm no sure whatabout." His sympathy was so easily aroused that he sometimes criedwithout exactly knowing why.
"It's because you're so good," Elspeth told him; but presently she said,with a complete change of voice, "No, Grizel needna have done that."
"It was a shameful thing to do," Tommy agreed, shaking his head. "Butshe did it!" he added triumphantly; "you saw her do it, Elspeth!"
"But you didna like it?" Elspeth asked, in terror.
"No, of course I didna like it, but--"
"But what, Tommy?"
"But I liked her to like it," he admitted, and by and by he began tolaugh hysterically. "I'm no sure what I'm laughing at," he said, "but Ithink it's at mysel'." He may have laughed at himself before, but thisMuckley is memorable as the occasion on which he first caught himselfdoing it. The joke grew with the years, until sometimes he laughed inhis most emotional moments, suddenly seeing himself in his true light.But it had become a bitter laugh by that time.