Читать книгу: «White Heather: A Novel (Volume 2 of 3)», страница 9

'What will ye drink, Katie dear? Some ale – or some porter?'

The other stormily answered —

'Get out, ye daft auld wife! Ale or porter the first day that my cousin Ronald comes into my own house? Champagne's the word, woman; and the best! What will ye have, Ronald – what brand do ye like? – Moett and Shandon?'

Ronald laughed.

'What do I know about such things?' said he. 'And besides, there's no reason for such extravagance. There's been no stag killed the day.'

'There's been no stag killed the day,' she retorted, 'but Ronald Strang's come into my house, and he'll have the best that's in it, or my name's no Kate Burnside – or Kate Menzies, I should say, God forgie me! Ring the bell, auntie.'

This time the grave-eyed barmaid appeared.

'A bottle of Moett and Shandon, Mary.'

'A pint bottle, m'm?'

'A pint bottle – ye stupid idiot?' she said (but quite good-naturedly). 'A quart bottle, of course!'

And then when the bottle was brought and the glasses filled, she said —

'Here's your health, Ronald; and right glad am I to see you looking so weel – ye were aye a bonnie laddie, and ye've kept the promise o't – ay, indeed, the whole o' you Strangs were a handsome family – except your brother Andrew, maybe – '

'Do ye ever see Andrew?' Ronald said; for a modest man does not like to have his looks discussed, even in the most flattering way.

Then loudly laughed Kate Menzies.

'Me? Me gang and see the Reverend Andrew Strang? No fears! He's no one o' my kind. He'd drive me out o' the house wi' bell, book, and candle. I hae my ain friends, thank ye – and I'm going to number you amongst them so long as ye stop in this town. Auntie, pass the bottle to Ronald!'

And so the banquet proceeded – a roast fowl and bacon, an apple-tart, cheese and biscuits and what not following in due succession; and all the time she was learning more and more of the life that Ronald had led since he had left the Lothians, and freely she gave him of her confidences in return. On one point she was curiously inquisitive, and that was as to whether he had not been in some entanglement with one or other of the Highland lasses up there in Sutherlandshire; and there was a considerable amount of joking on that subject, which Ronald bore good-naturedly enough; finding it on the whole the easier way to let her surmises have free course.

'But ye're a dark one!' she said at length. 'And ye would hae me believe that a strapping fellow like you hasna had the lasses rinnin' after him? I'm no sae daft.'

'I'll tell ye what it is, Katie,' he retorted, 'the lasses in the Highlands have their work to look after; they dinna live a' in clover, like the Glasgow dames.'

'Dinna tell me – dinna tell me,' she said.

And now, as supper was over and the table cleared, she went to a small mahogany cabinet and opened it.

'I keep some cigars here for my particular friends,' said Mrs. Menzies, 'but I'm sure I dinna ken which is the best. Come and pick for yourself, Ronald lad; if you're no certain the best plan is to take the biggest.'

'This is surely living on the fat of the land, Katie,' he protested.

'And what for no?' said she boldly. 'Let them enjoy themselves that's earned the right to it.'

'But that's not me,' he said.

'Well, it's me,' she answered. 'And when my cousin Ronald comes into my house, it's the best that's in it that's at his service – and no great wonder either!'

Well, her hospitality was certainly a little stormy; but the handsome widow meant kindly and well; and it is scarcely to be marvelled at if – under the soothing influences of the fragrant tobacco – he was rather inclined to substitute for this brisk and business-like Kate Menzies of these present days the gentler figure of the Kate Burnside of earlier years, more especially as she had taken to talking of those times, and of all the escapades the young lads and lasses used to enjoy on Hallowe'en night or during the first-footing at Hogmanay.

'And now I mind me, Ronald,' she said, 'ye used to be a fine singer when ye were a lad. Do ye keep it up still?'

'I sometimes try,' he answered. 'But there's no been much occasion since I came to this town. It's a lonely kind o' place, for a' the number o' folk in it.'

'Well, now ye're among friends, give us something!'

'Oh, that I will, if ye like,' said he readily; and he laid aside his cigar.

And then he sang – moderating his voice somewhat, so that he should not be heard in the front premises – a verse or two of an old favourite —

 
'The sun rase sae rosy, the gray hills adorning,
Light sprang the laverock, and mounted sae high,'
 

and if his voice was quiet, still the clear, penetrating quality of it was there; and when he had finished Kate Menzies said to him – after a second of irresolution —

'Ye couldna sing like that when ye were a lad, Ronald. It's maist like to gar a body greet.'

But he would not sing any more that night; he guessed that she must have her business affairs to attend to; and he was resolved upon going, in spite of all her importunacy. However, as a condition, she got him to promise to come and see her on the following evening. It was Saturday night; several of her friends were in the habit of dropping in on that night; finally, she pressed her entreaty so that he could not well refuse; and, having promised, he left.

And no doubt as he went home through the great, noisy, lonely city, he felt warmed and cheered by this measure of human companionship that had befallen him. As for Kate Menzies, it would have been a poor return for her excessive kindness if he had stopped to ask himself whether her robust camaraderie did not annoy him a little. He had had plenty of opportunities of becoming acquainted with the manners and speech and ways of refined and educated women; indeed, there are few gamekeepers in the Highlands who have not at one time or another enjoyed that privilege. Noble and gracious ladies who, in the south, would as soon think of talking to a door-mat as of entering into any kind of general conversation with their butler or coachman, will fall quite naturally into the habit – when they are living away in the seclusion of a Highland glen with the shooting-party at the lodge – of stopping to have a chat with Duncan or Hector the gamekeeper when they chance to meet, him coming along the road with his dogs; and, what is more, they find him worth the talking to. Then, again, had not Ronald been an almost daily spectator of Miss Douglas's sweet and winning manners – and that continued through years; and had not the young American lady, during the briefer period she was in the north, made quite a companion of him in her frank and brave fashion? He had almost to confess to himself that there was just a little too much of Mrs. Menzies's tempestuous good nature; and then again he refused to confess anything of the kind; and quarrelled with himself for being so ungrateful. Why, the first bit of real, heartfelt friendliness that had been shown him since he came to this great city; and he was to examine it; and be doubtful; and wish that the keeper of a tavern should be a little more refined!

'Ronald lad,' he was saying to himself when he reached his lodging in the dusky Port Dundas Road, 'it's over-fed stomachs that wax proud. You'll be better minded if you keep to your books and plainer living.'

CHAPTER XII
A SOCIAL EVENING

Looking forward to this further festivity he worked hard at his studies all day, and it was not until nearly nine o'clock in the evening that he went away down through the roaring streets to keep his engagement with Kate Menzies. And very snug and comfortable indeed did the little parlour look, with its clear glass globes and warmly-cushioned seats and brilliant mirrors and polished wood. Kate herself (who was quite resplendent in purple velvet and silver necklace and bangles) was reading a sporting newspaper; old mother Paterson was sewing; there were cigar-boxes on the table.

'And what d'ye mean,' cried the handsome widow gaily, when he made his appearance, 'by coming at this hour? Did not I tell ye we would expect ye to supper?'

'Would ye have me eat you out o' house and home, woman?' he said. 'Besides, I had some work to get through.'

'Well, sit down and make yerself happy; better late than never; there's the cigars —

'I would as lief smoke a pipe, Katie, if ye don't object – only that I'm shamed to smoke in a fine place like this – '

'What is't for, man? Do ye think I got it up for an exhibition – to be put in a glass case! And what'll ye drink now, Ronald – some Moett and Shandon?'

'Indeed no,' said he. 'If I may light my pipe I want nothing else.'

'But I canna bear an empty table,' said she. 'Here, auntie, get your flounces and falderals out o' the road – bless us, woman, ye make the place look like a milliner's shop! And bring out the punch-bowl frae the chiffonnier – I want ye to see it, Ronald, for it was gien to my gudeman by an auld freend o' his in Ayr, that got it from the last of the lairds o' Garthlie. And if ane or twa o' them happen to come in to-night we'll try a brew – for there's naething so wholesome, after a', as the wine o' the country, and I can gie ye some o' the real stuff. Will ye no try a drop the noo?'

'No thank ye, no thank ye,' said he, for he had lit his pipe, and was well content.

'Well, well, we'll have one o' the lasses in to set the tumblers and the glasses, for I canna thole to see a bare table; and in the meantime, Ronald, you and me can hae a crack be oursels, and ye can tell me what ye mean to do when ye get your certificate – '

'If I get it, ye mean, lass.'

'No fears,' she said confidently; 'ye were aye one o' the clever ones; I'll warrant ye there's na skim-milk in your head where the brains should be. But I want to ken what ye're ettling at after you've got the certificate, and what's your plans, and the like; for I've been thinking about it; and if there was any kind o' a starting needed – the loan of a bit something in the way of a nest-egg, ye see – weel, I ken a place where ye might get that, and ye wouldna have to whistle long at the yett either.'

Now there was no mistaking the generosity of this offer, however darkly it might be veiled by Kate Menzies's figurative manner of speech; and it was with none the less gratitude that he answered her and explained that a head-forester traded with the capital of his employer, though, to be sure, he might on entering a new situation have to find sureties for him.

'Is it caution-money ye mean, Ronald?' she said frankly.

'Well, if a man had no one to speak for him – no one whose word they would take,' he said to her (though all this was guess-work on his part), 'they might ask him for security. There would be no payment of money, of course, unless he robbed his employer; and then the sureties would have to make that good as far as they had undertaken. But it's a long way off yet, Katie, and hardly worth speaking about. I daresay Lord Ailine would say a word for me.'

'And is that a'?' she said, with a laugh. 'Is that a' the money's wanted for – to guarantee the honesty o' one o' the Strangs o' Whittermains? Weel, I'm no a rich woman, Ronald – for my money's maistly sunk in the tavern – and doing weel enough there too – but if it's a surety ye want, for three hunder pounds, ay, or five hunder pounds, just you come to me, and the deil's in't if we canna manage it somehow.'

'I thank ye for the offer anyway; I'm sure you mean it,' said he.

'That lawyer o' mine,' she continued, 'is a dour chiel; he'll no let me do this; and he's grumbling at that; and a poor widow woman is supposed to hae nae soul o' her ain. I'm sure the fuss that he makes about that cob, and only fifty-five guineas, and come o' the best Clydesdale stock – '

'But it was no the expense, it was no the expense, Katie dear,' whined the old woman, 'it was the risk to your life frae sae high-mettled a beast. Just think o't, at your time o' life, wi' a grand business, and yoursel' the manager o' it, and wi' sae mony freends, think what it would be if ye broke your neck – '

'Broke your grandmother's fiddlestrings!' said she. 'The beast's as quiet's a lamb. But that auld man, Peter Gunn. I suppose he's a good lawyer – indeed, every one says that – but he's as pernickety as an auld woman; and he'd mak' ye think the world was made o' silk paper, and ye daurna stir a step for fear o' fa'in through. But you just give me the word, Ronald, when the security's wanted; and we'll see if auld Peter can hinder me frae doing what I ought to do for one o' my own kith and kin.'

They were thus talking when there came a knock at the outer door; then there was a clamour of voices in the little lobby; and presently there were ushered into the room three visitors, who were forthwith introduced to Ronald, with a few words of facetious playfulness from the widow. There was first a Mr. Jaap, a little old man with Jewish features, bald on the top of his head, but with long, flowing gray hair behind; a mild-looking old man, but with merry eyes nevertheless – and indeed all of them seemed to have been joking as they came in. Then there was a Mr. Laidlaw, a younger man, of middle height, and of a horsey type; stupid-looking, rather, but not ill-natured. The third was Captain M'Taggart, a large heavy man, with a vast, radiant, Bardolphian face, whose small, shrewd, twinkling blue eyes had the expression rather of a Clyde skipper given to rough jesting and steady rum-drinking (and he was all that) than of the high-souled, child-hearted sailor of romance.

'Sit ye down, sit ye down,' their hostess said gaily. 'Here, captain, is a job for ye; here's the punch-bowl that we only have on great days, ye ken; and your brew is famous – whether wi' old Jamaica or Long John. Set to work now – here's the sugar and the lemons ready for ye – for ye maun a' drink the health o' my cousin here that's come frae Sutherland.'

'Frae Sutherland, say ye, Mistress?' the big skipper said, as he reached over for the lemons. 'Ye should ca' him your kissin frae the Hielans then. Do ye ken that story, Laidlaw? D'ye ken that yin about the Hielan kissins, Jaap? Man, that's a gude yin! have ye no heard it? Have ye no heard it, Mistress?'

'Tell us what it is first, and we'll tell you afterwards,' said she saucily.

'Weel, then,' said he – and he desisted from his preparations for the punch-making, for he was famous along the Broomielaw as a story-teller, and liked to keep up his reputation, 'it was twa young lasses, twa cousins they were, frae the west side o' Skye – and if there's ony place mair Hielan than that, it's no me that ever heard o't – and they were ta'en into service in an inn up about the Gairloch or Loch Inver, or one o' they lochs. Both o' them were good-looking lasses, mind ye; but one o' them just unusual handsome. Well, then, there happened to come to the inn an English tourist – a most respectable old gentleman he was; and it was one o' they two lasses – and no the brawest o' them either – that had to wait on him: but he was a freendly auld man; and on the mornin' o' his gaun awa he had to ring for something or other, and when she brought it to him, he said to her, jist by way o' compliment, ye ken, "You are a very good-looking girl, do you know, Flora?" And of course the lass was very well pleased; but she was a modest lassie too; and she said, "Oh no, sir; but I hef heard them say my kissin was peautiful!" "Your what?" said he. "My kissin, sir – " "Get away, you bold hussy! Off with you at once, or I'll ring for your master – you brazen baggage!" – and to this very day, they tell me, the poor lass do'esna ken what on earth it was that made the auld man into a madman; for what harm had she done in telling him that her cousin was better-looking than herself?'

This recondite joke was received with much laughter by the company; and even Ronald had to admit that the Clyde skipper's imitation of the Highland accent was very fairly well done. But joke-making is dull work with empty glasses; and so Captain M'Taggart set himself seriously to the business of brewing that bowl of punch, while Kate Menzies polished the silver ladle to an even higher extreme of brilliancy.

Now these three old cronies of the widow's had betrayed a little surprise on finding a stranger installed in their favourite howf; and perhaps they might have been inclined to resent the intrusion had not Kate Menzies very speedily intimated her views upon the subject in unmistakable language. Her 'cousin Ronald' was all her cry; it was Ronald this and Ronald that; and whatever Ronald said, that was enough, and decisive. For, of course, after a glass or so of punch, the newcomers had got to talking politics – or what they took to be politics; and Ronald, when he was invited to express his opinion, proved to be on the unpopular side; nor did he improve his position by talking with open scorn of a great public agitation then going on – indeed, he so far forgot himself as to define stump-oratory as only another form of foot-and-mouth disease. But at least he had one strenuous backer, and neither Mr. Laidlaw nor Mr. Jaap nor the big skipper was anxious to quarrel with a controversialist who had such abundant stores of hospitality at her command. Moreover, Kate Menzies was in the habit of speaking her mind; was it not better, for the sake of peace and quietness, to yield a little? This cousin of hers from the Highlands could parade some book-learning it is true; and he had plenty of cut-and-dried theories that sounded plausible enough; and his apparent knowledge of the working of American institutions was sufficiently good for an argument – so long as one could not get at the real facts; but they knew, of course, that, with time to get at these facts and to furnish forth replies to his specious reasonings, they could easily prove their own case. In the meantime they would be magnanimous. For the sake of good fellowship – and to oblige a lady – they shifted the subject.

Or rather she did.

'I suppose you'll be going to the Harmony Club to-night?' she said.

'For a while, at least,' replied the captain. 'Mr. Jaap's new song is to be sung the nicht; and we maun get him an encore for't. Not that it needs us; "Caledonia's hills and dales" will be a' ower Glasgow before a fortnight's out; and it's young Tam Dalswinton that's to sing it. Tam'll do his best, no fear.'

'It's little ye think,' observed Mrs. Menzies, with a kind of superior air, 'that there's somebody not a hundred miles frae here that can sing better than a' your members and a' your professionals put thegither. The Harmony Club! If the Harmony Club heard him, they might tak tent and learn a lesson.'

'Ay, and wha's he when he's at hame, Mistress?' Captain M'Taggart said.

'He's not fifty miles away frae here anyway,' she said. 'And if I was to tell ye that he's sitting not three yards away frae ye at this meenit?'

'Katie, woman, are ye daft?' Ronald said, and he laughed, but his forehead grew red all the same.

'No, I'm no,' she answered confidently. 'I ken what I'm saying as weel as most folk. Oh, I've heard some o' the best o' them – no at the Harmony Club, for they're too high and mighty to let women bodies in – but at the City Hall concerts and in the theatres; and I've got a good enough ear, too; I ken what's what; and I ken if my cousin Ronald were to stand up at the Saturday Evening Concerts, and sing the song he sung in this very room last night, I tell ye he would take the shine out o' some o' them!'

'He micht gie us a screed now,' Mr. Laidlaw suggested – his somewhat lack-lustre eyes going from his hostess to Ronald.

'Faith, no!' Ronald said, laughing, 'there's been ower great a flourish beforehand. The fact is, Mrs. Menzies here – '

'I thought I telled ye my name was Kate?' she said sharply.

'Kate, Cat, or Kitten, then, as ye like, woman, what I mean to say is that ower long a grace makes the porridge cold. Some other time – some other time, lass.'

'Ay, and look here, Mr. Jaap,' continued the widow, who was determined that her cousin's superior qualifications should not be hidden, 'ye are aye complaining that ye canna get anything but trash to set your tunes to. Well, here's my cousin; I dinna ken if he still keeps at the trade, but as a laddie he could just write ye anything ye liked right aff the reel, and as good as Burns, or better. There's your chance now. Everybody says your music's jist splendid – and the choruses taken up in a meenit – but you just ask Ronald there to gie ye something worth while making a song o'.'

Now not only did the old man express his curiosity to see some of Ronald's work in this way, and also the gratification it would give him to set one of his songs to music, but Ronald was likewise well pleased with the proposal. His own efforts in adapting tunes to his verses he knew were very amateurish; and would it not be a new sensation – a little pride commingled with the satisfaction perhaps – to have one of his songs presented with an original air all to itself, and perhaps put to the test of being sung before some more or less skilled audience? He knew he had dozens to choose from; some of them patriotic, others convivial, others humorous in a kind of way: from any of these the musician was welcome to select as he liked. The love songs about Meenie were a class apart.

And now that they had got away from the thrashed-out straw of politics to more congenial themes, these three curiously assorted boon-companions proved to be extremely pleasant and good-natured fellows; and when, at length, they said it was time for them to be off to the musical club, they cordially invited Ronald to accompany them. He was nothing loth, for he was curious to see the place; and if Mrs. Menzies grumbled a little at being left alone she consoled herself by hinting that her protégé could teach them a lesson if he chose to do so.

'When ye've listened for a while to their squalling, Ronald, my man, jist you get up and show them how an East Lothian lad can do the trick.'

'What's that, Mistress? I thought ye said your cousin was frae the Hielans,' the skipper broke in.

'Frae the Hielans? Frae East Lothian, I tell ye; where I come frae mysel'; and where ye'll find the brawest lads and lasses in the breadth o' Scotland,' she added saucily.

'And they dinna stay a' at hame either,' remarked the big skipper, with much gallantry, as the visitors prepared to leave.

They went away through the noisy, crowded, glaring streets, and at length entered a spacious dark courtyard, at the head of which was a small and narrow entrance. The skipper led the way; but as they passed up the staircase they became aware of a noise of music overhead; and when they reached the landing, they had to pause there, so as not to interrupt the proceedings within. It was abundantly clear what these were. A man's voice was singing 'Green grow the rashes, O' to a smart and lively accompaniment on the piano; while at the end of each verse joined in a sufficiently enthusiastic chorus:

 
'Green grow the rashes, O,
Green grow the rashes, O,
The sweetest hours that e'er I spent,
Were spent among the lasses, O.'
 

and that was repeated:

 
'Green grow the rashes, O,
Green grow the rashes, O,
The sweetest hours that e'er I spen',
Were spent among the lasses, O.'
 

Then there was silence. The skipper now opened the door; and, as they entered, Ronald found himself near the head of a long and loftily-ceilinged apartment, the atmosphere of which was of a pale blue cast, through the presence of much tobacco smoke. All down this long room were twin rows of small tables, at which little groups of friends or acquaintances sate – respectable looking men they seemed, many of them young fellows, more of them of middle age, and nearly all of them furnished with drinks and pipes or cigars. At the head of the room was a platform, not raised more than a foot from the floor, with a piano at one end of it; and in front of the platform was a special semicircular table, presided over by a bland rubicund gentleman, to whom Ronald was forthwith introduced. Indeed, the newcomers were fortunate enough to find seats at this semicircular table; and when beverages were called for and pipes lit, they waited for the further continuance of the proceedings.

These were of an entirely simple and ingenuous character, and had no taint whatsoever of the ghastly make-believe of wit, the mean swagger, and facetious innuendo of the London music hall. Now a member of the Club, when loudly called upon by the general voice, would step up to the platform and sing some familiar Scotch ballad; and again one of the professional singers in attendance (they did not appear in swallow-tail and white tie, by the way, but in soberer attire) would 'oblige' with something more ambitious; but throughout there was a prevailing tendency towards compositions with a chorus; and the chorus grew more universal and more enthusiastic as the evening proceeded. Then occasionally between the performances there occurred a considerable interval, during which the members of the Club would make brief visits to the other tables; and in this way Ronald made the acquaintance of a good number of those moderately convivial souls. For, if there was a tolerable amount of treating and its corresponding challenges, there was no drunkenness apparent anywhere; there was some loud talking; and Captain M'Taggart was unduly anxious that everybody should come and sit at the President's table; but the greatest hilarity did not exceed bounds. It was to be observed, however, that, as the evening drew on, it was the extremely sentimental songs that were the chief favourites – those that mourned the bygone days of boyhood and youth, or told of the premature decease of some beloved Annie or Mary.

Ronald was once or twice pressed to sing; but he good-naturedly refused.

'Some other time, if I may have the chance, I will try to screw up my courage,' he said. 'And by that time ye'll have forgotten what Mrs. Menzies said: the East Lothian folk are wonderful for praising their own kith and kin.'

As to letting old Mr. Jaap have a song or two to set to music, that was another and simpler matter; and he promised to hunt out one or two of them. In truth, it would not be difficult, as he himself perceived, to find something a little better than the 'Caledonia's hills and dales' which was sung that night, and which was of a very familiar pattern indeed. And Ronald looked forward with not a little natural satisfaction to the possibility of one of his songs being sung in that resounding hall; a poet must have his audience somewhere; and this, at least, was more extensive than a handful of farm lads and lasses collected together in the barn at Inver-Mudal.

At about half-past eleven the entire company broke up and dispersed; and Ronald, after thanking his three companions very heartily for their hospitality during the evening, set off for his lodgings in the north of the city. He was quite enlivened and inspirited by this unusual whirl of gaiety; it had come into his sombre and lonely life as a startling surprise. The rattle of the piano – the resounding choruses – the eager talk of these boon-companions – all this was of an exciting nature; and as he walked away through the now darkened thoroughfares, he began to wonder whether he could not write some lilting verses in the old haphazard way. He had not even tried such a thing since he came to Glasgow; the measurement of surface areas and the classification of Dicotyledons did not lead him in that direction. But on such a gala-night as this, surely he might string some lines together – about Glasgow lads and lasses, and good-fellowship, and the delights of a roaring town? It would be an experiment, in any case.

Well, when he had got home and lit the gas, and sate down to the jingling task, it was not so difficult, after all. But there was an undernote running through these verses that he had not contemplated when he set out. When the first glow of getting them together was over, he looked down the page, and then he put it away; in no circumstances could this kind of song find its way into the Harmony Club; and yet he was not altogether disappointed that it was so.

 
O Glasgow lasses are fair enough,
And Glasgow lads are merry;
But I would be with my own dear maid,
A-wandering down Strath-Terry.
 
 
And she would be singing her morning song,
The song that the larks have taught her;
A song of the northern seas and hills,
And a song of Mudal-Water.
 
 
The bands go thundering through the streets,
The fifes and drums together;
Far rather I'd hear the grouse-cock crow
Among the purple heather;
 
 
And I would be on Ben Clebrig's brow,
To watch the red-deer stealing
In single file adown the glen
And past the summer sheiling.
 
 
O Glasgow lasses are fair enough,
And Glasgow lads are merry;
But ah, for the voice of my own dear maid,
A-singing adown Strath-Terry!