by W. W. Jacobs
XIV.
LOVE AND WAR.
Wudna you winder hoo some fowk grow aye the aulder the waur? You seeToon Cooncillors, for instance, gettin' less use the langer they keeptheir job; an' ministers--haud your tongue! If they're no' guid, theyget mair an' mair driech the langer they preach; even their auldsermons, when they turn the barrel an' start at the boddom o' her,appear to get driecher than ever. It's juist the same wi' Sandy--theaulder he grows he gets the waur, till I raley winder what'll happentill him. He's richt sensible an' eident whiles; but when the feyblude gets intil his heid, an' he gets into the middle o' ony rig, he'sjuist as daft as the rochest haflin that ever fee'd.
When I heard the band on Setarday efternune, I threw the key i' theshop door, an' ran doon to the fit o' the street to see the sojerspassin'. Wha presents himsel', merchin' in the front o' the band, butmy billie, Sandy. There he was wi' a hunder laddies roond him, smokin'his pipe like's he was gettin' his denner ooten't, ane o' his airms upto the elba in his breeks' pooch, stappin' oot to the musik like afechtin' cock, an' his ither airm sweengin' back an' forrit like thependilum o' the toon's clock. To look at him you wudda thocht he wastrailin' the band an' a' the sojers ahent him, he lookit that hardwrocht. He never saw me--not him! His e'en were starin' fair aforehim; he wudna kent his ain tattie cairt, I believe, he was that muckletaen up wi' his merchin'.
He landit hame till his tea atween sax an' seven o'clock, stervin' o'cauld, but as happy's a cricket. "Man, Bawbie," he says, as I laid areed herrin' on the brander for him, "there's naething affeks me likesojers merchin' to musik. It juist garrs my backbeen dirl, an' I cannasit still. When they were doin' the merch-past this efternune, I hadto up an' rin, or I wudda thrappilt some lad sittin' aside's. That'sthe wey it affeks me. I wudda gien a pound note juist to gotten aricht straucht-forrit fecht amon' them for half an 'oor."
"You're juist like a muckle bubbly laddie, Sandy," says I. "It's awinder you wasna awa' up the toon wi' them to see if ony o' the sojerswud lat you cairry hame their gun. I raley winder to see an auldtattie man like you goin' on like some roid loon."
"That's a' you ken, Bawbie," says he. "I ken mair aboot thae thingsthan you, fully; an', though I am a tattie man, look at Abraham Linkin;he was waur than a tattie man to begin wi'; an' the Jook o'Wellinton--michty, he was born in Ireland; an' look what he cam' till!I tell you what it is, Bawbie, if they'd haen me at the battle o'Waterloo, you wudda heard anither story o't. I feel'd within mysel',that if I'd only haen the chance--see 'at that reed herrin's no'burnin'--I michta been a dreel sergint or a general----"
"A general haiverin' ass," I strak in. "See; there's your herrin';poor oot your tea noo, an' haud your lang tongue."
"Ow, weel-a-weel," says Sandy, gey dour-like--he's as bucksturdie as amule when he tak's't in's heid--"but we're no' deid yet, an' we'llmibby manish to garr some fowk winder yet, when a's dune. What's beendune afore can be dune again; the speerit o' Bannockburn's no' de'edoot a'thegither."
But I left the cratur chatterin' awa' till himsel', an' ran but to sairsome fowk i' the shop. Did you ever hear o' sic a man? Dauvid Kenaweesays Sandy's a kind o' a sinnyquanon; an' it's my opeenyin he's no'very far wrang, whatever that may mean.
As I was sayin', there's nae fules like auld fules. I put oottwa-three bits o' things on the green on Setarday forenune, an' Iforgot a' aboot them till efter the shop was shut. It wud be nearhandtwal o'clock when I ran doon for them. It was a fine nicht, butdreidfu' cauld. Juist as I was gaitherin' up the twa-three bit duds, Iheard voices ower the dyke, an' I cudna but harken to see wha wud beoot at that time o' nicht. Fancy what I thocht when I heard BeekSteein's voice, that bides in Mistress Mollison's garret, sayin', "Eh,ay, Jeemie; it's an awfu' thing luve. I hinna steekit 'an e'e for twanichts thinkin' aboot ye."
Preserve's a', thinks I to mysel', this is Ribekka an' Jeems Ethart,the engine-driver. Jeems is a weeda man, an' Ribekka's like me, she'son the wrang side o' forty; but, faigs, on Setarday nicht you wuddathocht they were baith aboot five-an'-twenty.
"My bonnie dooie," I heard Jeems say. A gey dooie, I says to mysel'.There's twal steen o' her, if there's a pund. It wud tak' a gey pairo' weengs to cairry Ribekka, I tell ye.
"A'ye genna gie's a kiss, Ribekka?" Jeems says after a whilie; an'Ribekka gae a bit geegle, an' then whispers laich in, "Help yoursel',Jeemie"--an' there they were at it like twa young anes.
I didna ken whuther to flee up the yaird, roar oot "feyre," or clim' upon the dyke an' gie them a wallop roond the linders wi' my bits o'cloots. So I stud still.
The fient a ane o' them ever thocht there was a livin' sowl withinfifty yairds o' them, an' they were crackin' an' kirrooin' awa' like apair o' doos.
"Isn't a peety they dinna ca' me Izik?" says Jeems.
"Hoo d'ye think that?" said Ribekka.
"Cause it wudda lookit so fine--Izik an' Ribekka, d'ye see?" an' theynickered an' leuch like a' that.
"An' I wudda been Ribekka at the wall," said Beek.
"Exackly," said Jeems; "altho' this auld pump's hardly the kind o' wallthey had in thae days. I hope there's nae horn-gollochs aboot it."
"There's twal o'clock," said Ribekka; "we'll need to be goin'.Gude-nicht, Jeems. See an' mind aboot me. Gude-nicht."
"Gude-nicht, my ain bonnie lassie," Jeems harken'd in till her. "Dinnabe feared o' me forgettin' ye. I never lift a shuffle o' coals but, Ithink I see your face. Every puff o' the engine brings me in mind o'ye, Ribekka; an' when I sit doon to tak' my denner, I lat fa' my flagonwhiles, I'm that taen up thinkin' aboot ye."
"Eh, Jeems, you're codin' me noo! But gude-night! Eh, mind ye, it'sSabbath mornin'."
"Gude-nicht, my bonnie lassie. Oh, Ribekka, you're sweeter gin heatherhoney. I wiss Sint Tammas Market was here, an' we'll be nae langer twabut wan. My bonnie dooie! Gude-nicht, my ain scentit geranum," saysJeems.
I began to be akinda waumish, d'ye ken. The haivers o' the two spooneycraturs juist garred me feel like's I'd taen a fizzy drink orsomething. You ken what I mean--the kind o' a' ower kittlie feelin'that's like to garr you screech, ye dinna ken hoo.
"Gude-nicht, Jeems," says Beek again. "I'll never luve onybody butyou."
"Are your shure?" began the auld ass again; an' me stanin' near frozento death wi' cauld, an' cudna get oot o' the bit.
"Never!" said Beek; "never!"
"Gude-nicht, than, dearie, an' see an' no' forget me. Will ye no'?"
"Ye needna be feared, Jeems. I luve you alone, an' nae ither body i'the wide, wide world. Gude-nicht, my Jeemie."
"Gude-nicht, than, Ribekka, luvie. An' if you dinna forget----"
But this was ower muckle for me; so I juist roared oot, "Gude-nicht, yehaiverin' eedeits," as heich as I cud yawl, an' up the yaird at what Icud flee.
Sandy was beddit on the back o' ten o'clock, an' he was snorin' like adragoon when I gaed up the stair. But when I got anower he jamp up a'o' a sudden, like's he'd gotten a fleg.
"Keep me, Bawbie, whaur i' the face o' the earth hae you been?" hesays, wi' his een stanin' in's heid, an' drawin' in his breath like's ashooer o' cauld water had been skootit aboot him. "You've shurely beenawa' at the whalin'. Bless me, your feet's as cauld's an iceikle.Keep them awa' frae me."
Isn't that juist like thae men? Weemin can beat them in mony weys, Iadmit; but, for doonricht selfishness, come your wa's!