by J. M. Barrie
CHAPTER IX
AULD LANG SYNE
What to do with her ladyship's threepence? Tommy finally decided to dropit into the charity-box that had once contained his penny. They held itover the slit together, Elspeth almost in tears because it was such alarge sum to give away, but Tommy looking noble he was so proud ofhimself; and when he said "Three!" they let go.
There followed days of excitement centred round their money-box. Shovelintroduced Tommy to a boy what said as after a bit you forget how muchmoney was in your box, and then when you opened it, oh, Lor'! there ismore than you thought, so he and Elspeth gave this plan a week's trial,affecting not to know how much they had gathered, but when they unlockedit, the sum was still only eightpence; so then Tommy told the liar tocome on, and they fought while the horrified Elspeth prayed, and Tommylicked him, a result due to one of the famous Thrums left-handers thenon exhibition in that street for the first time, as taught the victor byPetey Whamond the younger, late of Tillyloss.
The money did come in, once in spate (twopence from Bob in twenty-fourhours), but usually so slowly that they saw it resting on the way, andthen, when they listened intently, they could hear the thud of Hogmanay.The last halfpenny was a special aggravation, strolling about, just outof reach, with all the swagger of sixpence, but at last Elspeth had it,and after that, the sooner Hogmanay came the better.
They concealed their excitement under too many wrappings, but theirmother suspected nothing. When she was dressing on the morning ofHogmanay, her stockings happened to be at the other side of the room,and they were such a long way off that she rested on the way to them. Atthe meagre breakfast she said what a heavy teapot that was, and Tommythought this funny, but the salt had gone from the joke when heremembered it afterwards. And when she was ready to go off to her workshe hesitated at the door, looking at her bed and from it to herchildren as if in two minds, and then went quietly downstairs.
The distance seems greater than ever to-day, poor woman, and you stoplonger at the corners, where rude men jeer at you. Scarcely can you pushopen the door of the dancing-school or lift the pail; the fire has goneout, you must again go on your knees before it, and again the smokemakes you cough. Gaunt slattern, fighting to bring up the phlegm, was itreally you for whom another woman gave her life, and thought it a richreward to get dressing you once in your long clothes, when she calledyou her beautiful, and smiled, and smiling, died? Well, well; but takecourage, Jean Myles. The long road still lies straight up hill, but yourclimbing is near an end. Shrink from the rude men no more, they are soonto forget you, so soon! It is a heavy door, but soon you will havepushed it open for the last time. The girls will babble still, but notto you, not of you. Cheer up, the work is nearly done. Her beautiful!Come, beautiful, strength for a few more days, and then you can leavethe key of the leaden door behind you, and on your way home you may kissyour hand joyously to the weary streets, for you are going to die.
Tommy and Elspeth had been to the foot of the stair many times to lookfor her before their mother came back that evening, yet when shere-entered her home, behold, they were sitting calmly on the fender asif this were a day like yesterday or to-morrow, as if Tommy had not beenon a business visit to Thrums Street, as if the hump on the bed did notmean that a glorious something was hidden under the coverlet. True,Elspeth would look at Tommy imploringly every few minutes, meaning thatshe could not keep it in much longer, and then Tommy would mutter theone word "Bell" to remind her that it was against the rules to beginbefore the Thrums eight-o'clock bell rang. They also wiled away the timeof waiting by inviting each other to conferences at the window wherethese whispers passed--
"She ain't got a notion, Tommy."
"Dinna look so often at the bed."
"If I could jest get one more peep at it!"
"No, no; but you can put your hand on the top of it as you go by."
The artfulness of Tommy lured his unsuspecting mother into telling howthey would be holding Hogmanay in Thrums to-night, how cartloads ofkebbock cheeses had been rolling into the town all the livelong day ("Doyou hear them, Elspeth?"), and in dark closes the children were alreadygathering, with smeared faces and in eccentric dress, to sally forth asguisers at the clap of eight, when the ringing of a bell lets Hogmanayloose. ("You see, Elspeth?") Inside the houses men and women werepreparing (though not by fasting, which would have been such a good waythat it is surprising no one ever thought of it) for a series of visits,at every one of which they would be offered a dram and kebbock andbannock, and in the grander houses "bridies," which are a sublime kindof pie.
Tommy had the audacity to ask what bridies were like. And he could notdress up and be a guiser, could he, mother, for the guisers sang a song,and he did not know the words? What a pity they could not get bridies tobuy in London, and learn the song and sing it. But of course they couldnot! ("Elspeth, if you tumble off the fender again, she'll guess.")
Such is a sample of Tommy, but Elspeth was sly also, if in a smallerway, and it was she who said: "There ain't nothin' in the bed, is there,Tommy!" This duplicity made her uneasy, and she added, behind her teeth,"Maybe there is," and then, "O God, I knows as there is."
But as the great moment drew near there were no more questions; twochildren were staring at the clock and listening intently for the pealof a bell nearly five hundred miles away.
The clock struck. "Whisht! It's time, Elspeth! They've begun! Come on!"
A few minutes afterwards Mrs. Sandys was roused by a knock at the door,followed by the entrance of two mysterious figures. The female wore aboy's jacket turned outside in, the male a woman's bonnet and a shawl,and to make his disguise the more impenetrable he carried a poker in hisright hand. They stopped in the middle of the floor and began to recite,rather tremulously,
Get up, good wife, and binna sweir,And deal your bread to them that's here.For the time will come when you'll be dead,And then you'll need neither ale nor bread.
Mrs. Sandys had started, and then turned piteously from them; but whenthey were done she tried to smile, and said, with forced gayety, thatshe saw they were guisers, and it was a fine night, and would they takea chair. The male stranger did so at once, but the female said, ratheranxiously: "You are sure as you don't know who we is?" Their hostessshook her head, and then he of the poker offered her three guesses, adaring thing to do, but all went well, for her first guess was Shoveland his old girl; second guess, Before and After; third guess, NapoleonBuonaparte and the Auld Licht minister. At each guess the smaller of theintruders clapped her hands gleefully, but when, with the third, she wasunmuzzled, she putted with her head at Mrs. Sandys and hugged her,screaming, "It ain't none on them; it's jest me, mother, it's Elspeth!"and even while their astounded hostess was asking could it be true, themale conspirator dropped his poker noisily (to draw attention tohimself) and stood revealed as Thomas Sandys.
Wasn't it just like Thrums, wasn't it just the very, very same? Ah, itwas wonderful, their mother said, but, alas, there was one thingwanting: she had no Hogmanay to give the guisers.
Had she not? What a pity, Elspeth! What a pity, Tommy! What might thatbe in the bed, Elspeth? It couldn't not be their Hogmanay, could it,Tommy? If Tommy was his mother he would look and see. If Elspeth was hermother she would look and see.
Her curiosity thus cunningly aroused, Mrs. Sandys raised the coverletof the bed and--there were three bridies, an oatmeal cake, and a hunk ofkebbock. "And they comed from Thrums!" cried Elspeth, while Tommy cried,"Petey and the others got a lot sent from Thrums, and I bought thebridies from them, and they gave me the bannock and the kebbock fornuthin'!" Their mother did not utter the cry of rapture which Tommyexpected so confidently that he could have done it for her; instead, shepulled her two children toward her, and the great moment was like to bea tearful rather than an ecstatic one, for Elspeth had begun to whimper,and even Tommy--but by a supreme effort he shouldered reality to thedoor.
"Is this my Hogmanay, guidwife?" he asked in the nick of time, and thesituation thus being s
aved, the luscious feast was partaken of, theguisers listening solemnly as each bite went down. They also took careto address their hostess as "guidwife" or "mistress," affecting not tohave met her lately, and inquiring genially after the health of herselfand family. "How many have you?" was Tommy's masterpiece, and sheanswered in the proper spirit, but all the time she was hiding greatpart of her bridie beneath her apron, Hogmanay having come too late forher.
Everything was to be done exactly as they were doing it in ThrumsStreet, and so presently Tommy made a speech; it was the speech of oldPetey, who had rehearsed it several times before him. "Here's a toast,"said Tommy, standing up and waving his arms, "here's a toast that we'lldrink in silence, one that maun have sad thoughts at the back o't tosome of us, but one, my friends, that keeps the hearts of Thrums folkgreen and ties us all thegither, like as it were wi' twine. It's to allthem, wherever they may be the night, wha' have sat as lads and lassesat the Cuttle Well."
To one of the listeners it was such an unexpected ending that a faintcry broke from her, which startled the children, and they sat in silencelooking at her. She had turned her face from them, but her arm wasextended as if entreating Tommy to stop.
"That was the end," he said, at length, in a tone of expostulation;"it's auld Petey's speech."
"Are you sure," his mother asked wistfully, "that Petey was to say _all_them as have sat at the Cuttle Well? He made no exception, did he?"
Tommy did not know what exception was, but he assured her that he hadrepeated the speech, word for word. For the remainder of the evening shesat apart by the fire, while her children gambled for crack-nuts, youngPetey having made a teetotum for Tommy and taught him what the letterson it meant. Their mirth rang faintly in her ear, and they scarcelyheard her fits of coughing; she was as much engrossed in her ownthoughts as they in theirs, but hers were sad and theirs werejocund--Hogmanay, like all festivals, being but a bank from which wecan only draw what we put in. So an hour or more passed, after whichTommy whispered to Elspeth: "Now's the time; they're at it now," andeach took a hand of their mother, and she woke from her reverie to findthat they had pulled her from her chair and were jumping up and down,shouting, excitedly, "For Auld Lang Syne, my dear, for Auld Lang Syne,Auld Lang Syne, my dear, Auld Lang Syne." She tried to sing the wordswith her children, tried to dance round with them, tried to smile, but--
It was Tommy who dropped her hand first. "Mother," he cried, "your faceis wet, you're greeting sair, and you said you had forgot the way."
"I mind it now, man, I mind it now," she said, standing helplessly inthe middle of the room.
Elspeth nestled against her, crying, "My mother was thinking aboutThrums, wasn't she, Tommy?"
"I was thinking about the part o't I'm most awid to be in," the poorwoman said, sinking back into her chair.
"It's the Den," Tommy told Elspeth.
"It's the Square," Elspeth told Tommy.
"No, it's Monypenny."
"No, it's the Commonty."
But it was none of these places. "It's the cemetery," the woman said,"it's the hamely, quiet cemetery on the hillside. Oh, there's mony abonny place in my nain bonny toon, but there's nain so hamely like asthe cemetery." She sat shaking in the chair, and they thought she was tosay no more, but presently she rose excitedly, and with a vehemence thatmade them shrink from her she cried: "I winna lie in London! tell AaronLatta that; I winna lie in London!"
For a few more days she trudged to her work, and after that she seldomleft her bed. She had no longer strength to coax up the phlegm, and adoctor brought in by Shovel's mother warned her that her days were nearan end. Then she wrote her last letter to Thrums, Tommy and Elspethstanding by to pick up the pen when it fell from her feeble hand, and inthe intervals she told them that she was Jean Myles.
"And if I die and Aaron hasna come," she said, "you maun just gang toauld Petey and tell him wha you are."
"But how can you be Jean Myles?" asked astounded Tommy. "You ain't agrand lady and--"
His mother looked at Elspeth. "No' afore her," she besought him; butbefore he set off to post the letter she said: "Come canny into my bedthe night, when Elspeth 's sleeping, and syne I'll tell you all there isto tell about Jean Myles."
"Tell me now whether the letter is to Aaron Latta?"
"It's for him," she said, "but it's no' to him. I'm feared he might burnit without opening it if he saw my write on the cover, so I've wrote itto a friend of his wha will read it to him."
"And what's inside, mother?" the boy begged, inquisitively. "It must bequeer things if they'll bring Aaron Latta all the way from Thrums."
"There's but little in it, man," she said, pressing her hand hard uponher chest. "It's no muckle mair than 'Auld Lang Syne, my dear, for AuldLang Syne.'"