Wee Macgreegor Enlists

by J. J. Bell

  VI

  MRS. McOSTRICH ENTERTAINS

  'I'm fed up wi' pairties,' was Macgregor's ungracious response wheninformed at home of the latest invitation. 'I dinna ask for leavejist for to gang to a rotten pairty.'

  'Ay, ye've mair to dae wi' yer leave,' his father was beginning,with a wink, when his mother, with something of her old asperity,said:

  'Macgreegor, that's no the way to speak o' pairties that folk gi'ein yer honour. An' you, John, should think shame o' yersel'. Yeshould baith be sayin' it's terrible kind o' Mistress McOstrich toask ye what nicht wud suit yer convenience.'

  Macgregor regarded his mother almost as in the days when headdressed her as 'Maw'--yet not quite. There was a twinkle in hiseye. Evidently she had clean forgotten he had grown up! Possiblyshe detected the twinkle and perceived her relapse, for she went onquickly--

  'Though dear knows hoo Mistress McOstrich can afford to gi'e apairty wi' her man's trade in its present condeetion.'

  'She's been daft for gi'ein' pah-ties since ever I can mind,' Mr.Robinson put in, 'an' the Kaiser hissel' couldna stop her, Still,Macgreegor, she's an auld frien', an' it wud be a peety to offendher. Ye'll be mair at hame there nor ye was at yer Aunt Purdie'sswell affair. Dod, Lizzie, thon was a gorgeous banquet! I nevertasted as much nor ett as little; I never heard sich high-classconversation nor felt liker a nap; I never sat on safter chairs norlooked liker a martyr on tin tacks.'

  Macgregor joined in his father's guffaw, but stopped short, loyaltyrevolting. Aunt Purdie had meant it kindly.

  'Tits, John!' said Lizzie, 'ye got on fine excep' when ye let yerwine jeelly drap on the carpet.'

  'Oho, so there was wine in 't! I fancied it was inebriated-like.But the mistak' I made was in tryin' to kep it when it wasdescendin'. A duke wud jist ha'e let it gang as if a wine jeellywas naething to him. But, d'ye ken, wife, I was unco uneasy when Idiscovered the bulk o' it on ma shoe efter we had withdrew to thedrawin' room----'

  'Haud yer tongue, man! Macgreegor, what nicht 'll suit ye?'

  'If ye say a nicht, I'll try for it; but I canna be sure o' gettin'a late pass.' He was less uncertain when making appointments withChristina.

  And Mr. Robinson once more blundered and caused his son to blush bysaying: 'He wud rayther spend the evenin' wi' his intended--eh,Macgreegor?'

  'But she's to be invited!' Lizzie cried triumphantly. 'So there yeare!'

  'Ah, but that's no the same,' John persisted, 'as meetin' herquiet-like. When I was courtin' you, Lizzie, did ye no prefer----'

  Lizzie ignored her man--the only way. 'What aboot Friday, nextweek?'

  'If we're no in Flanders afore then,' reluctantly replied thesoldier of seven weeks' standing.

  * * * * *

  Happily for Mrs. McOstrich's sake Macgregor was able to keep theengagement, and credit may be given him for facing the wastedevening with a fairly cheerful countenance. Perhaps Christina,with whom he arrived a little late, did something to mitigate hisgrudge against his hostess.

  Mrs. McOstrich was painfully fluttered by having a real live kiltiein her little parlour, which was adorned as heretofore withornaments borrowed from the abodes of her guests. Though Macgregorwas acquainted with all the guests, she insisted upon solemnlyintroducing him, along with his betrothed to each individual withthe formula: 'This is Private Robi'son an' his intended.'

  While Macgregor grinned miserably, Christina, the stranger, smiledsweetly, if a little disconcertingly.

  Then the party settled down again to its sober pleasures.Macgregor possessed a fairly clear memory of the same company in asimilar situation a dozen years ago, but the only change which nowimpressed itself upon him was that Mr. Pumpherston had become muchgreyer, stouter, shorter of breath, and was no longer funny. And,as in the past, the prodigious snores of Mr. McOstrich, who stillfollowed his trade of baker, sounded at intervals through the wallwithout causing the company the slightest concern, and werelikewise no longer funny.

  After supper, which consisted largely of lemonade and pastries, thehostess requested her guests, several being well-nigh torpid, toattend to a song by Mr. Pumpherston. No one (excepting his wife)wanted to hear it, but the Pumpherston song had become traditionalwith the McOstrich entertainments. One could not have the latterwithout the former.

  'He's got a new sang,' Mrs. Pumpherston intimated, with astimulating glance round the company, 'an' he's got a tunin' fork,forbye, that saves him wrastlin' for the richt key, as it were.Tune up, Geordie!'

  Mr. Pumpherston deliberately produced the fork, struck it on hisknee, winced, muttered 'dammit,' and gazed upwards. Not so manyyears ago Macgregor would have exploded; to-night he was occupiedin trying to find Christina's hand under the table.

  'Doh, me, soh, doh, soh, me, doh,' hummed the vocalist.

  Christina, who had been looking desperately serious, let out asmall squeak and hurriedly blew her nose. Macgregor regarded herin astonishment, and she withdrew the little finger she hadpermitted him to capture.

  'It's a patriotic sang in honour,' Mrs. Pumpherston started toexplain----

  'Ach, woman!' cried her spouse, 'ye've made me loss ma key.' Here-struck the fork irritably, and proceeded to inform thecompany--'It's no exac'ly a new sang, but----'

  'Ye'll be lossin' yer key again, Geordie.'

  With a sulky grunt, Mr. Pumpherston once more struck his fork, butthis time discreetly on the leg of his chair, and in his own goodtime made a feeble attack on 'Rule, Britannia.'

  'This is fair rotten,' Macgregor muttered at the third verse,resentful that his love should be apparently enjoying it.

  'Remember ye're a sojer,' she whispered back, 'an' thole.' But shelet him find her hand again.

  The drear performance came to an end amid applause sufficient tosatisfy Mrs. Pumpherston.

  'Excep' when ye cracked on "arose," ye managed fine,' she said toher perspiring mate, and to the hostess, 'What think ye o' that fora patriotic sang, Mistress McOstrich?'

  'Oh, splendid--splendid!' replied Mrs. McOstrich with a nervousstart. For the last five minutes she had been lost in furtivecontemplation of her two youthful guests, her withered countenancemore melancholy even than usual.

  Ten o'clock struck, and, to Macgregor's ill-disguised delight,Christina rose and said she must be going.

  Mrs. McOstrich accompanied the two to the outer door. There shetook Christina's hand, stroked it once or twice, and let it go.

  'Macgreegor has been a frien' o' mines since he was a gey weeladdie,' she said, 'an' I'm rael prood to ha'e had his intended inma hoose. I'll never forget neither o' ye. If I had had a laddieo' ma ain, I couldna ha'e wished him to dae better nor Macgreegorhas done--in every way.' Abruptly she pressed something intoChristina's hand and closed the girl's fingers upon it. 'Dinnalook at it noo,' she went on hastily. 'It's yours, dearie, butye'll gi'e it to Macgreegor when the time comes for him to--togang. Ma grandfayther was a dandy in his way, an' it's a' he leftme, though I had great expectations.'

  Gently she pushed the pair of them forth and closed the door.

  At the foot of the stair, under a feeble gas-jet, Christina openedher hand, disclosing an old-fashioned ring set with a blood-stone.

  'Ye never tell't me she was like that,' the girl said softly, yet alittle accusingly.

  'I never thought,' muttered he, truthfully enough.