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Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seui clich6, ii est film* A partir de I'angle sup*rieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants iilustrent la m^thode. ' errata d to It e pelure, ;on A n 1 2 3 32X 1 2 3 4 i i 6 A'r JOCK HALLIDAY a Ckrassmarhrt 1l?fro OR Sketches of Life axd Character IN AN Old City Parish By ROIUXA F. HARDY AUTHOK UK ' NANNKll li S NKW S.iOKS,' 'WHINBLOOM,' El C. KTC. •That is host which lii-th nearest ; — Shape from tluit thy work of art.' — Longfellow SEVENTH EDITION, TORONTO: WILLIAM BRIGGS, 78 & 80 Kino Strrst East. MONTREAL: C. W. COAXES. HALIFAX: S. F. HUESTIS. 1884. Entered according to the Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year oiw thousand eight hundred and eighty-fonr, by William Briggs, in the Office of the Minister ot Agriculture, at Ottawa. I TO TUB MEMORY OF A GOOD MINISTER mtO LABOURED LONG AND EARNESTLY IN TUB *OLD CITY PARIS H^* THESE SKETCHES OF THE PEOPLE AND PLACE HE LOVED SO IVELL, ARE NOW AFFECTIONATELY DBDICA TSO, ^^ CONTENTS. CMAP. I. LIFE IN NUMBER NINETY-SEVEN— JOCK I II. A VISIT TO THE RAMPAR IS, HI. MRS. H ALL! day's LETTER, IV. efkie's 'penny pig,' V. 'the GLENDINNINtiS,' VI. NUMBER NINKTY-SKVKN ATTACKED, VII. THE 'LEDDY-VEICSITOR's' PKOGRISS, VIII. MR. TOWIE's 'band OP HOPE,'. IX. SANDY'S HAME-COMIN', X. * LIGHTS AND SHADOWS IN THE STAI R.' XI. BETTY S SUPPER-PARTY, XII. A NEW EXCITEMENT, Xin. MRS. TUCKER AND HER VISITORS, XIV. 'GOING DOWN HILL,' XV. 'STOP THIEF 1' . XVI. *IN THE POLICE OFFICE,' XVII. LUCKY law's LEDGER, XVIII. THE BAZAAR, .... XIX. A GOLDEN SHILLING, . . XX. A CONSULTATION, XXI. MORNING CALLERS, . XXH. CRISIS AND CONCLUSION, . 7 NTROnUCED PACK 9 i8 31 39 53 6i 73 8o 8S 96 108 118 124 132 13S 144 151 158 16S 173 182 188 JOCK HALLIDAY. * Had any tried his face to scan, " A cummon man I " you would have said. Thank Gud I he was — a common man ! ' —ISA Craig's Pofms, CHAPTER I. LIFE IN NUMBER NINETY-SEVEN — JOCK INTRODUCED. [AE wa* wi' ye this mecnit, or I'll send for the pollis 1 ' This awful threat came from Lucky Law, greengrocer and general merchant in the Grassmarket, and was hurled at the head of a rough- looking boy named Jock Halliday, whose iattentions were rather familiar to be pleasant Jock was a baker's boy, and having to pass Lucky's corner frequently in the discharge of his duties, made a point of peering in at her low doorway, and often indulged in a free criticism of her stock-in-trade, her actions, or whatever took his fancy at the moment 10 JOCK HALLWAY, *Luck — y Law! Luck— y Law!' he had sung out on this occasion, imitating the crowing of a cock, that being a favourite serenade of Jock's ; and no sooner had he sounded the first note than Lucky's huge frilled nightcap appeared at the door, and the rack of withered vegetables beside her shook violently as if in anticipation of the coming storm. It was a red and angry face that filled the nightcap, md Lucky's figure was tall, bony, and masculine ; so it was no wonder that Jock Halliday showed signs of a quick retreat. *A body canna get a mouthfu* o' meat ta'cn in peace for yer impidence ! ' cried the virago. ' See if I dinna tell yer maister o' yer tricks, ye idle loon ! ' * He kens them fine, Lucky ! ye needna fash yersel'!' rejoined the youth with charming can- dour. It was, indeed, highly probable that Mr. Braid, the baker, knew from sad experience the character of his youthful assistant. A customer appearing at this moment, Lucky descended her two or three steps again, and ushered her into the well-filled premises below. It was a low-roofed shop, divided into two by a slight partition — the one part entirely occupied by a huge brown counter, two or three racks or ranges filled with carrots, turnips, and any other vegetables in season. Some shelves also displayed a store of LIFE IN NUMBER NINETY-SEVEN, ii bath-brick, pipe-clay, and such articles dear to the hearts of cleanly housewives ; while a barrel of yellow sand, and one of oatmeal, loomed darkly out from the far end of the shop. It was said — but the neighbours were doubtless rather ill-tongued — that Miss Law used only one scoop for these two barrels, diverse though their contents were ; but even if it were so, she was a person of clear judgment and much discrimination, and probably never made any mistake in serving them out! The other half of the shop was devoted to the private life and affairs of the owner, with the exception of a large mangle, by which a good deal of her modest income was earned. At the window of this department, which also looked out to the street, Jock Halliday now flattened his nose, and as soon as the customer was served renewed his attack upon Lucky. * Eh ! she's bilin' up the auld kail runts ! ' was his next sally, having observed a pot boiling on the little fire. * They've a fine smell, Lucky I Ye'U no be gaun to keep them for Scobie's swine this week ? ' *Ye ne'er-do-weel varlet! I'll gie ye something to taste yer ain kail wi', that will I ! ' cried the old dame, diving under the counter, and bringing for- ward a tin pitcher, apparently filled with greasy water and vegetable refuse, which was probably destined for ' Scobie's swine.' This she affected to ii' 1 1 1 IS JOCK HALLIDA V. aim at the head of her tormentor, who now took to his heels in earnest, leaving Lucky Law mistress of the situation. Jock went off at a good rate, dashing round a corner of the street, and then ran up the first stair after that, whistling as he went, and occasionally jumping up two or three steps at a time. It was a dark and dirty stair of five long flights. Jock's home was at the very top, but he had still time for some diversion before seeking it On the first land- ing, and in a deep window recess, some six or seven small children were playing. Jock pulled the hair of one, made a wry face at another, and rubbed his floury * bannet * over the face of a third. Of course they all howled and shouted in consequence, though they seemed rather to enjoy it than other- wise. Certainly they were well used to these performances. However, Jock had no sooner left them than a * touzy '-looking matron, of portly form and flowing drapery, emerged from her own dwell- ing on to the landing, and addressed — it might be the children, or it might be the general public, for her tones were loud enough to reach the street : * Noo, this'U no dae ! I canna bide a' this steer an* confusion, an* what's mair, I'll no pit up wi* it!' * It's no huz,' whined the children. * It was Jock Hallidayr LIFE IN NUMBER NINETY-SEVEN 13 *A body micht weel ken it's Jock Halliday whenever there's a din i' the stair — a regiment o' dragoons is naething till him ! * The matron 'skirled' out this more loudly still, turning her head towards the angle of the stair, where, as she fully expected, Jock was listening. She had her reward. *Tam Lowrie's wife's an unco wife!* struck up the musical youth. This was a popular refrain in the stair, chanted to a wild irregular tune, and was one well known to Mrs. Lowrie, who naturally resented it with some asperity. Its origin, like that of many populaf ballads and ditties, was unknown or obscure. The heroine made a feint of pursuing Jock up the stair, but was interrupted. * lu that you, Mrs. Lowrie ? * cried a woman from below, who had just entered the * stair-fit* She had a shawl thrown over her head, and had evidently just crossed the street on some little errand. * Are my Geordie's buits ready yet frae the mendin'? I've just comed ower for them, for the laddie canna want them nae langer.' *Bide a wee, Mrs. Fairlie, an' I'll speir at the gudeman,' returned Mrs. Lowrie, disappearing into her own demesne. After a brief colloquy with the redoubtable * Tam,' she again emerged, but with looks prepared X4 JOCK HALLWAY. for either diplomacy or defiance. The boots were evidently not ready ! *'Deed they're no jist dune, Mrs. Fairlie. Were ye in ony parteeklar hurry, like ? ' * Hurry i* re-echoed the voice from the entry ; *I dinna ken what ye ca' hurry. Geordie's waited this three weeks an* mair. This is a fine time to talk o' hurry, I assure ye 1 ' 'Weel, weel, woman, ye needna be angry. The gudeman's just been sair put aboot wi* stress o* business this while back.* *Ay, indeed!' said Mrs. Fairlie dryly. *I thocht I had seen him ilka nicht gangin* ower to the Haurrow Inn. I maun hae been mista'en.* * He micht be there and he micht no,' said Tarn Lowrie's wife, lounging over the railings with her arms akimbo, and prepared for defiance now that diplomacy had failed; 'but I can tell ye, my man has mair important affairs to mind than your laddie's buits at a time like this, when the nation's gaun clean wrang a* thegither.' * Wheesht, woman ! * growled a voice from within, *an* dinna ye try to meddle wi* politeeks.' It was perhaps as well that Tarn stopped the tide of his wife's eloquence, for her views were by no means clear on * politeeks.' * Maister Lowrie '11 be gaun up to Paurliment himsel* sune, likely* cried Mrs. Fairlie in her most The Lion's LIFE IN NUMBER NINETY-SEVEN. 15 sarcastic tones. *He'd better gie back Geordie's buits as they are, an' Rob Ryan the cobbler up by '11 be gled to dae them. They tell me he's gettin' into a fine business — he's rael steady, an* aye at his wark.' * He'll ne'er baud the caundle to Tam for soliu* an' heelin'/ shrieked Mrs. Lowrie in reply ; * but he's maist welcome to you an' a' your custom from this day forth ! I'm sure there's aye mair steer aboot your folk's shoon than a* the rest o' the customers pitten thegither ! ' The colloquy was here ended, however, by the appearance of a rough head of hair and very bloated countenance, just seen over the landing, and a deep, grufif voice saying : * I'll have them feenished the morn's nicht, Mrs. Fairlie, if that'll dae. They'll mak a gude strong pair yet for mony a day.' Mrs. Fairlie was evidently mollified. * Vera weel, Maister Lowrie ! I'll send up Geordie the morn's nicht, an' if they're ready we'll hae nae mair words aboot it' Mrs. Lowrie had beat a rapid retreat, perhaps a little ashamed of her own rashness, and Mrs. Fairlie herself was not slow to quit the field. We must now follow Jock Halliday, who has by this time gained the very top of the stairs, and is seated at his mother's fireside. lit i6 JOCK HALLIDA K ii * What's keepit ye, Jock ? ' demanded his mother, a broad, comely-faced woman, but exceedingly *hashy* in her appearance and dress. She stood leaning on a long besom with which she had been raking out some corners of her garret, for it was one of Mrs. Halliday's characteristics to be always in process of 'redding up,' although her house re- mained usually to the last degree confused and comfortless. * What's keepit ye ? I had to gie the weans their denner, but there's your bite waitin' for ye.' Jock's ' bite * was in a little basin by the fire, and seemed to be an indiscriminate jumble of brose, bacon, and fried liver, it was tolerably hot in spite of Jock's late arrival, and he could hardly be said to have deserved so much grace, considering the idle way in which his leisure moments had been spent. He sat down at once on the fender and attacked the mess ravenously, eating in perfect silence, while his mother went on with her sweeping, stopping now and then to ask a question of her son, at other times singing in a high shrill voice some favourite national melody. ' Noo, Jock,' she began whenever she saw him on his feet to depart, * there's ae thing I hae to say to ye.* Mrs. Halliday again leaned on her besom-shank, n tl r la til LIFE IN NUMBER NINETY-SEVEN. 17 lother, dingly stood J been as one ays in ise re- ;d and gie the ;in' for re, and brose, n spite )e said ig the 1 been tacked , while jpping other /ourite lim on o say and Jock 'glowered* with no pleasing forebodings written on his face. * Tliae new folk that's come to the stair — ben the hoose, ye ken. Bruce they ca* them.* * Ay, weel.' 'They're real ceevil, canny-like folk, ye ken. 'What for no?' Jock growled suspiciously, but it was a good-humoured sort of growl. 'Ye'U keep a ceevil tongue in yer heid gin ye meet in wi* them, like a gude lad ? * * Ou ay,* quoth Jock indifferently. 'An* ye'U no fricht their wee lassie like ye fricht the other bairns i' the stair ? ' ' The blind lassie^ mother } I daursay ye think I'm a vaigabond I ' ' Aweel, Jock, my man, ye' re whiles ^t.y like ane, laughed the mother as Jock went whistling down tlie stairs. shank, B CHAPTER II. A VISIT TO THE RAMPARTS. 'mons mbc' One bright April morning, soon after the events recorded in the last chapter, a young woman, with a baby in her arms and a little girl holding by her dress, might have been seen wending her way slowly down the stair which was so often enlivened by Jock Halliday's pranks and by Mrs. Lowrie's eloquence. She looked timidly around her, as if everything were somewhat new and strange, u A VISIT TO THE RAMPARTS. 19 events voman, lolding ng her often y Mrs. nd her, range, and only gave a civil 'good day' to any passing neighbour. But the stairs were very quiet just then, and the trio went almost unnoticed. From the Candlemaker Row, at the foot of which their dwelling lay, Mrs. Bruce, for it was she, pushed her way up the winding street known as the West Bow, and presently emerged on to the ancier;t High Street, that steep, ridgy ascent leading up to the Castle-yard. The sun was shining merrily on the grey walls and the many towers of the Scottish metropolis. Merrily, too, the jingling chimes of St. Giles — its grand old Cathedral Church — rang out the hour of noon, accompanying it with a feeble fantasia, said by the initiated to be 'The Blue Bells of Scotland,' alternating with * Home ! Sweet Home 1 ' But the High Street had other and more stirring strains to enliven it just then, for a band of the 42nd Highlanders — * The Black Watch ' — was marching up in all the glory of fife and drum and fluttering tart?*^*?. and followed, of course, by an admiring throng *' * rag-tag and bobtail,' while many a window on either side was blocked up by a * toozy * head or two, or a white * mutch.' Added to all these, there was the usual hum of busy life — the noise of traffic and commerce — the cries of coal-carters, fishwives, and hucksters — all itifying great Auld Reekie ' was alive and flourishing. fO JOCK HALLIDA K Mrs. Bruce seemed well-nigh bewildered by these unusual sounds, though she still held bravely on her way towards the Castle. But the little girl by her side stood still, enraptured, as the Highlanders came near, clapping her hands and crying : * Oh ! mither, mither I that's bonnie music, bonnie music I ' * Ay, Effie, it'.<5 rael bonnie ; but wait or we win by this crood, an' syne we'll stop.' * Come in here, neighbour/ said a strange voice by her side ; * it's a covered place, an' safer for the bairns.' It was an old woman who spoke, tall and ungainly of aspect, clad in a shabby dress and faded tartan shawl, yet with something honest and independent-looking about her. She was sheltering herself under the wide arch of Mylne's Court — a fashionable resort in days gone by, but now only a swarm of dirty and miserable dwellings. * Come in here/ she repeated ; and Mrs. Bnice gladly obeyed the advice, after a hasty glance had assured her that it was one of her neighbours who spoke, and one of whom she had heard a fair enough report. * Ye're a neighbour o* mine/ said Jean Campbell, 'though maybe ye know it not, for I have been away on my travels since ye came to the stair/ % I ,;•!) ^1 J m m .t A VISIT TO THE RAMPARTS. 91 ■i f I Jean spoke with a strong north-country accent of a somewhat pecuh'ar nature, but expressed herself well for one of her order, seldom using the broad Scotch, or rather the ' low Edinburgh,' prevalent around her. 'Your name's Bruce, isn't it?' inquired she in her abrupt manner. * Ay ; I'm thinkin* ye're the tenant next door to us. But I would hardly hae kenned ye again, for ilka thing's sae new an' strange to me in this toun ; I'm just fair bewildered.' 'Your man works on the railway?' again interrogated her new friend. *Ay, he's a platelayer on the line. He was that in the country place he cam' frae, an* they sent him on here. Willie thinks it's a gran' rise ; but 'deed I'm whiles no verra sure.* 'Well, well, neighbour ; nobody can say what will be best for them, or what will be worst for them, till they have tried. If a woman can't make herself happy in one place, it's my belief she'll never do it in any other ; and Jean Campbell has seen more of this world's ups and downs than any of you three have done ! * Jean had worked herself into a sort of mild frenzy during these philosophic reflections, and now clenched her withered hands together, muttering to herself : hi JOCK HALLWAY, *Ay, ayl Jean could tell ye strange stories if she liked, but ye're maybe best without them. They are well off that have no story of their own to tell. But where are ye bound for ? * The last question was so sudden that Mrs. Bruce started. 'Bound rbr?' she repeated. *To the Castle-yaird. My man bade me tak the bairns up there for a breath o' fresh air.* Effie burst into tears at this moment. 'Mither, mitherl* she wailed, 'the bonnie music's a* gane by.* ' Whcesht, wheesht, my wee wifie ; ye'll hear them again at the Castle, maybe. But 'deed/ she added to Jean, * I'm no verra keen to gang my lane. I dinna ken my way yet aboot the streets.' * The Castell "i * said the old woman meditatively. ' I am a kind of ** gangin'-about body," as they say in the north country, and my business does as well in one place as another. 'Deed 1 I may well say that, for it never does very much anywhere. So, if ye care for the convoy of an old witch like Jean, I'll take ye safe to the Castell and help ye with the weans.* 'I'll be real gled,' said the younger v/oman, *an* tak it verra kind o' ye to think on't. Will ye tak wee Kffie's hand ? Ye'll maybe no hae noticed that she's blind ? * M A VISIT TO THE RAMPARTS. >3 * Blind!* exclaimed Jean. It was her turn to start this time, for she had noticed with interest the eyes of this Httle gin — so lustrous and beautiful were they, of the softest violet colour ; and yet it never had occurred to her that they were but sightless eyes. *Ay, woman, blind! Puir wee Effie hardly ever saw mair nor jist the licht o* day. But she's real clever for a' that, an' real canty tae.' Jean said no more, but took the little hand of the blind child softly in her own horny palm, and started off towards the Castle-yard. The street was quieter now, and they made their way easily up the picturesque but dirty approach to the ancient fortress. In the yard some recruits were being drilled, and they watched them for a little, Kffic eagerly picking up the various words of command, and imitating with her tiny feet the * tramp, tramp' of the men as they passed and repassed. Then they went on, Jean pointing out the old portcullis gateway, the drawbridge, the moat, and all other places of interest. Upward still, past the officers' quarters, and up the steps till they reached at last the ramparts and stood beside ' Mons Meg,' that ancient relic of the war- fare of other days, feeling the breezes blowing fresh and strong around them, as if they had suddenly arrived in some new climate altogether. Here they all sat down to rest. •4 JOCK HALLIDA K Behind them was the quaint little chapel built by St. Margaret, the godly queen of Malcolm Canmore, the smallest and the most ancient ecclesiastical building in Scotland ; and in front of them stretched one of the most magnificent panoramas that the world can show. At their feet lay the city, clearly defined as in a map, and proudly raising its countless spires and turrets from the shrouding silvery mist. On the right rose abruptly the Calton Hill, crowded with classic monuments ; on the left, the pleasant slopes of Corstorphine Hill declined gradually into a long vista of cultured fields and wooded plains ; while beyond all swept the blue waters of the winding Forth, swelling out into its wide and stately Firth, where white sails came and went, and rocky islands glittered in the sunlight. The shores of Fife were clearly descried, and it was on these that the eyes of the young stranger rested most eagerly. ' Bonnie Lairgo Bay ! ' she said softly to herself, * what wad I no gie whiles to be there ? I doubt we were fules to leave it.' 'Mither, can ye see it frae here.^' asked the blind child earnestly. * No, Effie, no ; but I see whaur it lies. I see Kinghorn Point stretchin' oot into the water, an' it's just beyond that, ye ken.* A VISIT TO THE RAMPARTS. *S the see an 'Faither '11 tak us there some day, mither; will he no?' 'Ay, dearie; but we maun hae some siller gathered first, sae ye maun hae patience. An' this is a braw toon an' a bonnie, ye ken, sae you an' wee Willie maun learn to like it' Jean Campbell had been lost in a brown study till now, sitting on the ramparts with her eyes fixed, not on the view around her, but on the little group by her side. She now broke silence in her abrupt and singular fashion. ' She's not your own bairn, though — that one,' she said, nodding in the direction of little Effie, who had BtroUed away a few steps and seated herself at the base of the old cannon. Agnes Bruce coloured deeply. ' Hoo ken ye that?' she said in surprise. * I thocht I treated her the same as my ain.' * You're good to her, very good ; but it's never the same,' returned Jean in a decisive tone. ' A bairn can have but one mother. I had a stepmother myself, and a good one ; but it was never the same —it never can be. What's her story ? ' * Her story ? Nane, but jist that my Willie was married afore, and Effie's mother died when she was born — that's a'. They say she was a bonnie lassie, an' as guid as she was fair ; but I never saw her, for a' we belanged to the same pairish. She lies buried a6 JOCK JIALLIDA Y, ower yonder/ she added, bending her head in the direction of Largo. *Ay, ay!' was the only comment Jean chose to make as she still sat coolly surveying the features of her new friend. There was a look of truth and goodness in this young countrywoman's homely face that could not be mistaken. She was, in fact, only too simple and trustful for the sort of people among whom she had come to dwell, and Jean — not extra particular for herself — saw and regretted this. 'I'm real vexed ye could tell she wasna my ain,' said the young mother, tears rising to her eyes as she spoke. * Unless it might be frae her luiks, for Efiie's like her ain mother, an* she was bonnic by me ! But maybe I'm no sae kind to the bit lassie as I thocht I was ! * * Woman, I said ye were good to her, very good,' said Jean sternly. 'But look into your own infant's face and tell me if they are the same to ye ! ' The baby was smiling and crowing, doing his very best to captivate a doting mother's fancy. Agnes Bruce looked long and steadily, first on the one child, then on the other. * I daurna say,' she said at last in a low voice ; ' I micht be tempted to say mair nor the truth, an' there's Ane abunc that reads a' oor hearts.' 'That's right,' cried Jean trium[)hantly. *Ay; but there's ac thing I will say,' continued tt J in the hose to features uth and ely face ct, only among )t extra ny am, eyes as liks, for nnivj by t lassie S< ood,' infant's ng his fancy, on the ice ; ' I Ih, an' itinucd SBAD OF WEST DOW. 87 m ■ ilt^n f ■ '■ , i .' ■ 1 ' 1, 'i ■ 1 t • - • 1 A VISIT TO THE RAMPARTS. 29 the other solemnly, * and it is this : God deal with me and mine as I sail deal with the puir bairn committed to my charge ! — my husband's bairn, an' hers who lies low in the dust this day at the fute o* Lairgo Law ! ' Jean only nodded her assent or approval, or whatever else she might mean. * Is your man steady ? ' she asked, suddenly chang- ing the subject of conversation. * Steady ? Ou ay. He's aye been steady yet, thank God ! What for do ye ask } Are they a' quate-livin' folk in the stair ? * The last question was asked with a very quavering voice, for indeed Mrs. Bruce had good cause for doubting if any of them would come under that denomination. * Humph ! * said her eccentric neighbour, * as to that ye'U learn for yourself. Jean is no tale-pyet, be she what she may ! ' *I just speired at ye because my Willie's awfu' easy led,' said Mrs. Bruce apologetically. ' But he's been steady as yet — real steady. I hae nae cause for bein' anxious about him the noo.* * If he's easy led,' said Jean with emphasis, * mind my words, for I'll say no more than this, keep him from 7 am Lowrie and his wife / ' *Ta.m Lowrie! That's on the first floor, I'm thinkin'?' began Mrs. Bruce. But Jean neither heard .* i> 3© rOCK HALLIDAY, «4 nor heeded her words. She had seized little Effie by the hand again, and declaring it was time to be home, began their return march, keeping well in front of the other, so as to give no further chance of conversation. And so they went down into the valley again — down the steep Castle-hill between the two Assembly Halls, and under the overhanging wooden front of the old house (now taken down) at the head of what was 'The Bow,* once. There Jean conducted them by steps down to the present Bow, yclept * The West,' where they saw the celebrated shop of Mr. Braid, the baker, Jock Halliday's master; and then past the Cowgatehead, blocked up with Irish barrow-women and old-clothes shops, and so onward till they reached at last the grimy stairs where both their dwellings lay. of :le Effie le to be well in iiance of :y again he two wooden ) at the :re Jean jnt Bow, ilebrated alliday's )cked up ops, and ny stairs of an CHAPTER III. MRS. HALLIDAY'S LETTER. *Hey, Betsey! Hae ye seen oor Jock gaun by ? * * Na, mither ; no this while back.* This was part of a colloquy carried on by Mrs. Halliday and her eldest daughter, a half- clad nymph of thirteen, who was skipping on the plainstones below, while her mother leant over the bal- cony above. The cowGATEHHAD. balcony consisted iron bar which helped to maintain the clothcii- ii s> JOCK HALLIDA V. i! 'II pole, on which Mrs. Halliday's washings were driecl, and from which a solitary shirt was suspended. To an imaginative mind this shirt might have suggested an idea of the absent master of the house in a similar state of suspension — at least, that was its effect on Mrs. Halliday as it swung and fluttered in the breeze. * Sirs, me ! I got sic a fleg wi* Sandy's sark e'en noo ! ' she exclaimed as she withdrew her head from the window. * I thocht it was himsel' — or his ghaist, mair likely !' Why Sandy's * ghaist ' was likely to be of grey checked woollen aspect, and destitute of head and legs, it is difficult to understand ; but this was Mrs. Halliday's view of the subject. Her house was, as usual, in process of being * redd up,* and the door stood wide open — that was also as usual. She held something tightly in her hand, which might have been a letter ; but it was so rolled up, crumpled, and blackened, that it was not very easy to distinguish what it was. * Hech, sirs,* continued the good woman, address- ing either an imaginary audience or the entire neighbourhood beyond the open door. * Hech, sirs, it's a bonnie-like thing to think that here's a letter frae my gudeman, an' me lost my specs an' canna read a word o't. If that idle loon Jock wad only come hame 1 He comes aften aneuch whan nae- J/A-.V. ILXrJJDATS LETTER. 33 I)ody's wantin* him. Betsey's nae scholard — she'd jist mak a rifrmarole o't ; an' it '11 be ill aneuch to undcrst.'in' vvilhoot that, nae doot.' Agnes Bruce happened to come past the door at that very moment with the baby in her arms, and little Effie trotting after her. Hearing Mrs. Ilalli- day's wailing remarks, she stepped in to ask if she could be of any use. Mrs. Halliday seemed some- what embarrassed, and turned the letter round and round again as if wondering what to do. 'Thank ye kindly, neibor. I mak nae doot ye could read it for mc ; but to tell the truth, my man's geyan throughithcr, an' 'deed there's jist nae sayin' what micht be in't.' Agnes apologized for seeming too officious, and withdrew. »' If I see your laddie on the road, I'll send him up,' she said pleasantly. ' Ay, dae that, like a woman,* said Mrs. Halliday, following her to the stair-head, where, lounging over the railing, she carried on her discourse. *Ye see, oor Jock's a gran' scholar, though ye wadna think it tae luik at him, maybe. He got his Icar' at the Vennel schule up by, an', believe me, there's no a better maister than Maister Mill in a' the toon. He lethers them at times ; but, my word he lethers Icarnin' into them ; and what's their skins made for, I wad like to ken, if it's no for letherin' t ' 34 JOCK HALLIDA Y. v. ill Mrs. Bruce did not attempt to discuss this profound view of physical science, and Mrs. Ilalliday resumed. *Ma bairns are ^Q.y dour and wild, ye ken, an' I've to gie them their licks myscl' whiles ; but Jock aye says it hauds them fine an* warm an' saves the fuelin'. For he's an awfu' laddie for his joke, ye ken — oor Jock ! Hoot ay, and what for no ? It keeps the house cheery ! * * Mither ! ' skirled a voice from the entry below, 'there's oor Jock gaun up by wi' his board to Bristo Port ! ' ' Weel, rin aifter 'im, lassie, an' tell him there's a letter frae yer faither, an' he maun come hnme to mak it oot as sune as Maister Braid can .^; arc him.' It was not very long before the redoubtable scholar appeared on the scene, coming up the long stair three steps at a time, and wakening the echoes with melodious howls, as was his wont. ' Noo, Jock, my man, dinna be a fule ! ' said his mother. ' I'll steek the door, an' ye'll sit doon an* read it through wise-like. She was awfu' kind offerin' to dae't, ye ken,' she added in a whisper, nodding in the direction of the Bruces' door ; ' but I'm jalousin* yer faither maun hae been on the rammle again that he hesna written this while back, an* it wadna hae dune to expose him to strangers.* * Aweel, mither,' said Jock, ' we'll sune see.' f MRS. JIALLIDATS LETTER, 35 kind The door having been 'stcekit' — a circumstance sufficient in itself to proclaim to the 'stair folk ' that something important was going on — Mrs. Ilalliday set herself down on the end of the fender, threw a duster over her head, crossed her arms, and prepared in this solemn manner to receive the greetings or commands of her absent lord and master. ' Sit richt foment me, Jock, an' dinna rin a' the words thegithcr as ye whiles dae.* Thus admonished, Jock took the chair opposite to her, and broke the seal ; for Mr. Halliday in- dulged in red sealing-wax, very stragglingly applied, and stamped with a * thoomb,' not the crest of the family, but the genuine living article. ' Ma dear wife an' bairns,' began Jock, reading slowly from the document, which he held slanting towards the light. * Puir Sandy ! ' ejaculated the mother, * he's aye rael affectionate — maist o' a' when he's no at hame 1 ' This was said with perfect simplicity, be it observed — not the least vestige of sarcasm ! ' This comes a-hopin' as you are well,' continued the letter, * as it leves me verra bad ; no atower the bed for a week.' * Preserve us a', Jock ! what'U be wrang ? ' ' It was the Newcastle races that guv me cowld.' ' Eh, Jock, it'll be the broon kadics ! Yer faithcr aye taks them aifter ony o' his sprees — the Fast-day 36 JOCK HALLWAY. or the HK'C o' tliat. They're a sair trouble th.ie broon kadics. Piiir fallow, I'm just racl wac ai)out him, tlac )'C ken ? * Bronchitis, it must be explained, was the disease indicated by Mrs. Ilalliday, who was apparently under the impression that it was something of the plural number and a sad colour. A half-audible 'grumph* was the only expression of sympathy Jock accorded to his mother's various comments. lie went stolidly on with the letter as follows : — *Thae English doctors is jist a pack o' haverals — they hev nac skeel like oor men. The bit chappie that they sent for tae me aye says to drink watter, a thing that never agreed with me.' Mrs. Ilalliday sighed deeply. Jock growled under his breath : * A wus he wad gie the watter a better chance ! ' ' Wife, I wus ye wad send my thick worset grauvet and anither sark — ony thing else ye -'^•nd o*. Me and some o' the ither men hev got word o' a gran' job aboot London ; an' sae if I get up my held again, I'm no hame just yet.* 'Preserve me! he's aye gaun farrer an* farier awa * I 1 doot he'll no sattle verra weel aifter't. But 'deed ! gin he doesna tak heid to his ways, thae broon kadies '11 soon sattle him ! ' ' Dear wife an' bairns, I canna send ony siller MRS. jLirunArs letter. 37 for a week or twa owin* to this sickness.' (MIc niiclit liac put in tlic races intae the bargain ! ' quotii Jock indi^niantly.) * Sae ye maun chie the best ye can an' Hppen to Providence, forbye makin* Jock stick to his wark an* bring hame his wages regular.' Mluh! I daursay that!* growled the youth referred to. ' Keep a guid heart, an* I'll try to send some siller afore' lang. Dinna fash to pay the parcel to the railway folk. — Your true friend and well-wisher, 'Sandy IIalliday.' ' Noo, mither, I maun be aff, or the maister '11 be flytin'. Gin ye'll hae faithcr's things pittin the- g'ther, I'll tak them tae the train the nicht.' ' Eh ! Jock lad 1 * said his mother, jumping to her feet, * I maun hae his worset grauvet socht oot ! Yonder's his sark washed and dried, puir man ! an' me thinkin' it was like his ghaist. I wus he mayna be waur nor we think I But whaur did I see that grauvet ? ' So saying, she seized the old hairless besom that was her favourite resource at all times, and began raking underneath the bed with it — a process which quickly revealed a strange miscellany of goods ; in fact, it appeared as if the wardrobe of the entire family was deposited in that safe and sure retreat. ' He's a fine man, tae, yer faither, Jock,* she went 38 JOCK HALLWAY. on meanwhile. ' Ye mauna think that ill o' him, for a' his failin's ! But eh ! Jock, my man ! aye keep ye the richt road, for ye see what the ither ane brings folk tae ! * 'Ou ay, mither!* responded Jock indifferently, and without more ado he was off, rattling down the stair as noisily as he had ascended it. In due time Mrs. Halliday had raked out the * worset grauvet * from some dark recess, and had roiled it up with a few other garments in the checked fchirt still damp from the pole. Then she set to work and baked some oatmeal cakes, and cut down large whangs of a skim-milk cheese or * kebbock,' — ■ all of which were packed a little confusedly in an old hamper, the viands being, in Mrs. Halliday's opinion, ' fine for the broon kadies^ CHAPTER IV. EFFIE S 'PENNY PIG. Some weeks had passed away since Agnes Bruce's first expedi- tion to the Castle- yard. The:je weeks had helped to make her feel much more at home in the great city than she had ever hoped to do at first. The early summer weather had been bright and plea- sant, and William Bruce, like a kind husband and father, had often taken his little family out in the lengthening evenings, after work hours, for a stroll round the Meadows and Bruntsfield Links, or Queen's Park ; a9 LBITH PIER. < 'I I ! 40 JOCK HALLIDAY. sometimes down to the old Palace of Ilolyrood, and on Saturdays as far as Portobello Sands or Leith Pier, to get a brcatli of the salt sea-air, and to look across towards the beloved but invisible Largo. Effie, though she could not see with her own eyes the beautiful places and interesting objects around her, was marvellously quick at picking up some idea of them from what the others told her; and her keen car for music was often gratified by street organs, German bands, and other itinerant per- formances. Once or twice, when the evening walk had been rather longer than usual, Effie had been greatly delighted by finding her own short legs suddenly relieved of the necessity of dragging wearily on, as she was lifted bodily in 'the strong arms of ' Oor Jock,* who would invariably declare that he 'had a bit errant that gait,' and *wad gie the wee lassie a lift sae far's he was gaun/ *That gait' must have been a very wide word in Jock's vocabulary ; for once when he had joined them beyond the Dean Bridge, a huge parcel projecting from his pocket disclosed the fact that his original destination v as the South Back of Canongate ! It was only evening errands, however, for Lucky Law and others, that were thus dealt with, and Jock was of course master of his own leis'Me hours. 'Ye maun be fond o' a walk, like oorsels, Jock,' legs r;er, ealt own jij:!' ■'£t I I EFFIES PENNY PIG. 43 Mrs. Bruce would say when they met ^'■^^ ; but Jock never owned to any such weakness. ' Hooh ! I'm no heedin', was his usual rejoinder, with an indifferent glance cast around him as if to show how little he valued natural or artificial beauty. He knew, however, the names of all the places they might pass, and the histories of many of them, and was quite ready to part with these bits of information ; only they were invariably thrown out as a bone might be thrown to a dog, so as to impress the hearer's mind with a conviction of their absolute worthlessness in Jock's estimation. For example, it would be Fettes College seen from afar that the Bruces were gaping at, and Jock would act showman thus : *Ay, that's Fettes. Sir Willum Fettes, a rich banker, left money for't. A fine place, nae doot, but awfu^ English. Mickle Scotch gowks are sent thehe to be clippit into wee English gentlemen. Gentlemen ! I wus ye saw some o' them wi' their ticht jaickets an* chimney-can hats on their heids — laddies no hauf the size o' me ! Losh ! they're av^fu* fond o' ca'in' hus "keds; " but when I luik at thcm^ I'm aye glca to be " a ked ! " Hooh ! we've gi'en tJicm mony a fleg, I can tell you. Ou ay!' The Bruce baby, too, had grown and flourished wonderfully in the interval, and was considered — by his parents — to be the most intelligent and observ- •]\ 44 /OCK HALLIDA K ing infant ever known to exist. Certainly town life had agreed with him ; so that his fond mother was all the more ready to allow that Edinburgh, in spite of noisy streets and crowded thoroughfares, had many advantages of its own, and that * perhaps they did richt to leave the auld bit aifter a', though it ivas beside bonnie Lairgo Bay.* * Hoots ay, woman ; what are ye aye yammerin* aboot hit for?' her husband would answer in a good-humoured, bantering tone. ' A man micht as wcel be a kail-runt as bide in a place like yon a' his days. Naething like a big toon for shairpenin* up the wuts — that's what I say.* For Willie Bruce, whom any one would have seen to be a country man from his rosy cheeks and wondering eyes, considered himself a pretty sharp fellow now, and well up to the ways of the world. * Eh, Willie, my man, I wus there mayna * be waur things nor kail-runts in this mickle toon.* Agnes Bruce looked anxiously at her husband as she said this. They had just passed, in one of their country rambles, a little group which had awakened in her a strong but painful interest. The mere wreck of what had once been a respectable artisan staggered stupidly along the road, ragged, dirty, and degraded. He was closely followed by a weary, anxious-looking woman, toiling under a heavy EFFIE'S PENNY FIG. 45 burden, and leading a liitle starving child by the hand. Oh ! in this great city, with its unknown sins and sorrows, would the time ever come when her Willie would be like that, when she would follow him so with little Effie, trying to lure him back from ruin ? * No, no ! he could never be like that /* He had not given her much cause for anxiety yet, per- haps ; but he was, as she had said, ' easy led,' and it was still a question here who was to lead him. It had been no difficult task in the quiet Fifeshire village, where all their friends were sober, God-fearing people, where his place in the ' kirk* was seldom or never vacant, and where every influence around them, from the cottage garden to the parish library, was one for good. Very easy there — but here ! Their home up that dark, rilthy stair, that seethed with life of a very low and degraded kind ; their neigh- bours (Jock always excepted, and a little lame dressmaker next door), people they could hardly make friends of ; for even Jean Campbell, itinerant vendor of pin-cushions and such small wares, had too little care for outward appearances. Jean was, however, rather better than they supposed her to be, being originally come of respectable people in a remote Highland parish, and having about her more information and scholarship than all the rest of the stair put together. 46 JOCK IIALLIDA V. r ' ,( \! > >i Jean was decidedly eccentric. Her temper, soured perhaps by eariy disappointment and mis- fortune, was cynical and morbid to a degree, thoui^h there were times when she softened wonderfully and betrayed glimpses of a good and kindly nature be- neath hard looks and bitincf words. Little Effie had an extraordinary influence over her. She was never hard or severe with the child, but would pass her horny hand gently over the sunny hair and the sightless eyes, saying, 'The bonnie bairn! It's maybe just as well — ^just as well ! Who knows ivhat their een have to see or ever they close in their long, last sleep .'" The last time Jean had returned from her travels, she had stopped at the Bruces' door, and called little Effie to her, then rolled something round and hard towards her along the wooden floor. Effie quickly caught it, following it by the sound, and taking it up, gleefully asked if it was for her, and what it was for. ' Ay, ay ; it's for you, Effie. It's a penny pig^ my dawtie ! Tell your father to make speed and fill it for ye, and take ye over to that Lairgo Bay ye are aye talking about.' Effie was delighted. It was her first experience of this primitive sort of money-chest. She feii it all over and grew familiar with the rounded form —so smooth above, so rough below — the little knob •no! he could never be like that i' 47 EFFIE'S rJiXXV PIG. 49 at the top to hold it by, the lotifj slit to ()ass the pennies throun^h. She pressed the smooth brown surface to I'.cr lips, and called the precious gift *hcr own — her dear penny pig \ ' Jean seemed highly pleased at her gift being so much appreciated. Then she turned away sharply, saying, 'Never a plack has Jean to put in it, though! Just like her luck! All goes to the rich folk — none to the poor!* So saying, she dived into her cheerless-looking room and banged the door after her, as she often did in her misanthropic moods. That very forenoon, when Jock I lalliday appeared on the landing for his'denner' or * bite,* Effie got hold of her chosen ally and friend, and displayed her new treasure to him, with eyes that sparkled with pleasure, even though they could not see. Betsey, the half-clad nymph of the skipping-rope, met her brother at the stair-head, holding out a dish with two or three cold potatoes boiled in their 'jackets' (the best of all ways, by the bye), also ' twa bawbees,* which she amused herself by tossing into the air and catching again. ' Hae, Jock,' said the girl, ' mither's got wark at the rubber factory for hauf the day, an' the couldna mak ready the meat ; sae ye're jist to tak thae tatties an' buy a drink o' mulk to yersel'.' Jock stared at the potatoes, then tossed them D 50 JOCK HALTJDAY, into one pocket, and the ' bawbees ' into another of his raj^ged coat. * What liac ye for yersels ? ' he asked with more real courtesy than might have been supposed from his tone. * We've a* gotten the same as you, Jock ; but /';;/ no gaun to buy mulk — nae fears o* me ! ' ' What'U ye buy ? ' * Gujttiy r shrieked Betsey as she ran wildly down the stairs before her brother could object. *Ye mickle gowk!' he called after her con- temptuously ; but she was already out of hearing on this wild pursuit of pleasure. *Ay, that's a bonnie die-die, Effie/ he said kindly, handling the beloved ' pig * that Effie held up to him ; 'but it'll mak a fine jinglin' sound whan it's full o' bawbees, and ye'U like that best o' onyj Ask yer mither for some.* 'She's awa to the doctor's wi* wee Willie to be vack — vack — something — I dinna mind what She'll be a while yet* The child looked disappointed, for the pleasure of hearing any 'jinglin" sound was to her an extra- ordinary one. Jock did not like to see her bright eyes cloud over so. He ran off all the quicker, perhaps, to avoid the sight. But at the stair-foot he turned, muttering to himself, ' They say soor dock's best I I I ■■f .■;l J EFFIES PENNY PIG. S« for the stamack. I'd daur mine to fia* faut wi* oiiything I'd chuse to pit in't ; an' 'deed I'm no vcrra sure vvhaiir it is cxcei)t wliilcs when it's toom I But I dinna mind lunnouriu' it ance in a way. Soor dock's easy to j;ct. Lucky Lavv'll ^Me me some for cleavin' her sticks yestreen, for we've been rael gude freens this while back.' By the time Jock's soliloquy was ended he was at the top of the stair again. He looked in at the l^ruces' door. Little Effie sat silent but happy on a low stool by the fireside, hugt^ing her new-found treasure. She knew his foot in a moment. 'Jock!' she said, 'what for are ye come back?' But Jock did not answer in words. He only knelt down beside her on the rug, and slipped quietly into the 'pig's* mouth his two battered halfpennies, then gave the dish a hasty shake, whereat the halfpennies danced and danced again, making the rriost charming ' jingle ' in little Lffie's ears. ' Eh I Jock, that's braw ! (vaw ! Let Effie shake it hersel' noo !' And so he left her blythe and cheery, to shake the pig and listen to its music, imagining all sorts of pleasant songs and stories to herself out of it, a& was her wont I 5« JOCK IIALLIDA Y. Mary Morrison, the lame dressmaker, had come m with her work to watch Effie and the house. The sunshine came merrily in from the window on her and on the little blind face by the fire. So Effie was safe till mother would come home— safe and happy. .; \ CHAPTER V. THE GLENDINNINGS. 54 fOCK BALL IB A Y. I I * Pat/ just done uith school life, stood by a window, watching the passers-by, and making comments upon them in a lively style, quite indifferent to the fact that no one was listening to her. She was short and thick-set, somewhat brown in complexion, and her face was only redeemed from plainness by a pair of merry black eyes, a winning smile, and frank, open expression. 'Well, I declare,* said Miss Pat in a louder tone, so as to arrest her sister's attention, 'there's that venerable " Mater" of ours at last, just coming round the corner ! And on each side of her one of these chosen friends of hers, the Miss M'Gibbons — the fat one that I don^t like, and the nice one with the curls. What a splendid "claver" the three are having! Well, I 7t£ver ! There comes Dr. Randal himself, no less, and his new assistant — oh, isn't he a cure ! Why, it's the whole meeting turned out, I believe, in a procession ; and our respected parent is sure to ask them all in for refreshments. Alice, I do wish you'd get her to remember that we're not living at Thornydean just now! Town people don't go in for bread and cheese at all hours as they do in the country — either luncheon at one, or afternoon tea at four.' * Pat, dear, don't be staring out if they are all coming this way,' was Alice's only rejoinder. 'Staring, Alice .^ What a shocking idea! Only • THE GLENDTNNINGS: 55 "casting a casual glance," as we say in novels. And they arc a good way off yet, besides.* * That " we" reminds me of your novel, Pat. How is it getting on } I haven't been favoured lately with any of your '* flashes of genius." * ' Oh, that one is off the hooks,, you know.* * Published ? ' suggested Alici with a smile. Pat shrugged her shoulders. 'Well, it's in \}oiQ press certainly, — the press in our room, top shelf, — and likely to remain there. But really, Alice, I've got a splendid idea this time, which I think may come to something. Pll let you read the first chapter to-night. " Lorenzo the Lost," I call it There are two elopements in it, and three sets of lovers, all at sixes and sevens, and' — ' Oh, Pat, do try to comb down your genius a little.* * Comb it down, indeed ! What an insulting sug- gestion ! Down to the dead level of that tiresome, hum-drum, classical music of yours, I suppose. I hate the very name of it — ugh !' * Pat. dear, think of the great musicians who comp' — ' Great fiddlesticks,* interrupted the literary genius. * I don't believe one of them would have known ** Annie Laurie" if he had heard it' 'Very likely not, Pat Some of them could hardly be expected to, yoM Lnow.' I 56 JOCK HALLIDA Y. * Oh ! Alice, here they all are at last, at our own corner. Here's a parting scene, for they're evidently not coming in after all Mater's persuasions. There go the Miss M'Gibbons in contrary direc- tions — fat one into the Meadows for a saunter, thin one, I fear, back to the giddy world again. What a shaking of hands! "When shall we three meet again } " And Dr. Randal is being tugged across to Buccleuch Place by that indefatigable Mr. Towie. Oh ! here is mother now. I'll go to meet her.' So saying, the genius took herself off, a crimson ribbon from her hair being left to flutter on to the carpet in her rapid flight. Alice, too, rose from her piano, and wheeled her mother's chair into a pleasant, shady corner. A minute afterwards Mrs. Glendinning herself entered — a bright, active matron not much over fifty, and thoroughly able to enjoy life — its work and its amusements — even after all the cares of a rather numerous family. Mr. Glendinning was factor for some large estates in the south of Scotland, and the family home was in reality at Thornydean, a quiet rural nook of Selkirkshire. Just half a year ago they had secured this town house in George Square, that the young- sters might attend school, and the older boys and girls enjoy some of the many educational advantages that only a large city can afford. Mr. Glendinning ■iftii • THE GLENDINNINGS: 57 himself spent part of each week with them, and perhaps enjoyed the change as much as anybody ; while his wife, though she dearly loved her country home and all its concerns, felt that in Edinburgh a new life opened before her, which enlisted sympathies yet unstirred and energies hitherto dormaiit. The old parish church to which they had, almost by chance, attached themselves, was one surrounded not only by its own beautiful and historic grave- yard, but also by a low and poor neighbourhood, which presented a wide field for the missionary efforts of the congregation. Dr. Randal, their minister, a man of apostolic zeal and rare administrative genius, had but lately entered on his .work. Fresh from the green hills and breezy pasture lands of a quiet country parish, he almost shuddered as he faced alone the seething mass of misery, degradation, and crime now committed his charge. How was he to thread those filthy wynds and noxious stairs and closes, that were all the more loathsome because the clover-fields and the broomy knowes were so clear to his memory still, and the song of the laverock was yet ringing in his ear.? And so the Doctor had wisely resolved to gather around him a band of devoted men and women who would help him to assail this stronghold of 5? JOCK HALLIDA V. Satan, and to gather from out its ruins the livini:^ jewels that lay there so foully crusted over with vice, so meanly clothed in wretchedness and shame. It was this brave Christian enterprise that had so deeply stirred the warm, kindly soul of Mrs. Glendinning. She longed to reach a helping hand to those poor creatures, lounging at close-mouth or stair-foot, knowing nothing of a home life so happy and useful as her own had been. And she loncrcd still more to see the little faces of the innocent ' bairns ' grow bright and fresh as those of country children, and to hear their voices ringing in glad and childlike mirth, instead of with the strains of the drunken and the ribald. *No, girls, no 1 indeed I am not the least tired !* she declared as she seated herself in the chair -Alice had set for her, laughing at their eager solicitude about her. 'Do let me fetch you a cup of coffee, mother.^* Alice had said, while Tat prepared to disrobe her of shawl and bonnet. * I enjoyed the meeting so much. It was really quite refreshing. Dr. Randal speaks so clearly and so well about the way in which one must approach this work '— 'And dear Mr. Towie?* asked Pat in her mock- ing way. ' Didn't /le get leave to make any sweet and interesting: reflections ? ' 'THE GLENDINNINGS: 59 *Hush, Pat, my dear ; you know I don't like }'ou to be too frivolous. But, do you know, Alice, I have done something about which I don't feel very sure of your approval. I had better confess at once, I suppose.' ' Oh, mother ! what ca7i it be ? ' 'You've asked Mr. Tow'e to dinner, l\'uffie, I know you have ! * cried Pat, It being one of this young lady's peculiarities to invent as many new synonyms for the word 'mother' as her prolific imagination could suggest. ' Something you won't like so much, Pat,' said her mother, laughing. * I have promised that my two elder girls will take a very small, tiny " district " between them — that one single stair may be set apart for them to visit, that is — I really could not help it, my dear. There was only this one stair left unappropriated, and Dr. Randal was so very anxious to have «//his parish allotted. Now, what do you say, Alice ? for, of course, it falls most to your share. Pat is rather young yet for such a task. Indeed, I could not allow her to go alone.' Pat sat staring at her mother open-mouthed and silent. Genius seemed for once to have deserted her. Alice had grown pale at first, but now a little wild-rose colour of [)leasurable anticipation began to show itself. *I should so like to be of use, mother dear; i 6o JOCK HALLIDAY. ... '■ p! i but — but — do you really think we can manage it ? I am so bad at talking to perfect strangers — i know my courage will take wing on the very first floor.' * Oh ! as to that,' cried Pat, finding voice again^ * why, you know, Fve pluck enough for any\\\w\^\ Yes, Alice, let's go to-morrow. I'll carry on the general conversation, and you'll drop moral re- jections in gently afterwards, lik^ the children's story books ! It'll be first-rate. Mother, do tell us where is this El-Dorado to be found ? ' Mrs. Glendinniiig took a folded paper '"rom her bag, and read : ^ No. 97 Caudlonakcr Row / ' ::P*t I'^r' \ r ! I- |r~^^' ^^.e>^^ >-j-%. iB CHAPTER VI. NUMBER NINETY-SEVEN ATTACKED. I^OME days elapsed before the Glcndinning ^^ girls actually set forth on their new mission. Alice, naturally timid and self- distrustful, wanted time to think over it well, and to make what little preparation she could. Some pleasant books and papers, both well illustrated, some picture cards for children, and a bag of sweet- meats — these constituted what Pat called her * stock of ammunition for the grand attack.' Pat herself had been most anxious to set off at once. Every morning heard her ask, 'Aren't you ready now, Alice ? What on earth are we waiting for.!* Think of that stronghold of evil lifting its iniquitous head proudly to the sky, and us sheath- ing our swords here in luxurious idleness ! I feel like another Greatheart before Giant Despair's. hospitable mansion ! Come and let us begin I * ci 6a JOCK JIALLIDAY. Still Alice waited. 'I must finish these little baby's boots first,' she said. * I think some motlier's heart may be a little more easily won if the pretty blue and pink things happen to fit her baby.' ' 15ribcry and corruption, Alice! I'll go in foi nothing of that sort. High moral principle and elevated sentiments — these are the only allurements I mean to hold out ! * But a suggestion made by her brother Arthur gave Alice more confidence than Pat's rhodo- montade, which she knew was very likely to end in smoke. Arthur Glendinning, the second son, was a student about to enter the Divinity Hall. He was kept a prisoner at home just then by a severe sprain, and was consequently more in the way of hearing his sisters' plans and projects than he might otherwise have been. Arthur was a nice, frank youth of eighteen or so, combining some of Pat's merry humour with Alice's quiet steadfastness. TU tell you what, Alice,' he said, *you might help me out of a fine dilemma. I promised Dr. Randal that I would start a week-evening class for bo}'s — big rough fellows, you know, who haven't had time for much schooling. Not like a Sunday school, but just to give them a taste for natural history and all that sort of thing. And here I am — more like NUMBER NINETY-SEVEN ATTACKED. 63 a chained bear than anything elsel It's no easy matter, I assure you, to carry on the business of life with only one leg — and how am I ever to get hold of these rascals ? * 'But what can I do, Arthur?' *Do? Like a good creature, keep your eyes on any boys you may meet in your district, and send them up to me ! Mother says I may do what I like with that large room down-stairs ; so say that Professor Glendinning's class will meet here on Saturday evenings at seven o'clock. Fees payable in advance. Five guineas only for the course.* *0h, Arthur ! that will suit me exactly ! It gives me something definite to say on my first visit — some little excuse for going. Thank you ever so much!* So that very morning, being Monday, the two girls at last set out, resolved to begin the attack. They left the wide, pleasant Square, with its shady walks and leafy gardens, and passed through the narrow, noisy street where Bristo Port had once opened and shut its iron gates to the traveller, then passed along by the fragment of the old city wall still remaining at that time, and soon reached the gates of the Grey friars' Churchyard, where they paused to reconnoitre. They looked down a rather steep and dusty lane leading into the Grassmarket and Cow- gate, called Candlemaker Row, a place which had 11 ii 64 JOCK HALLWAY. quite (IcscrvcLl its name in byi^onc days; lor there all tlie candles of the city were duly made, in vast vats, cmittinc,^ throu^^di the oi)en, iron-baned windows an odour so powerful that in some memories forty years have not sufficed to efface it. The street was indeed one long row of candlcmakers* cauldrons, t— iHt-— - GRBVFKIARS' CHURCH. and loud and bitter was the outcry made when oil and lamp came in to spoil the trade and enliven the town. Oil and lamp had of course but a brief day, or rather night of triumph, before giving place to the ubiquitous gas. And now is not even that mighty spirit about to be deposed ? However that may be, the old candlemakers of the Row have long since NUMBER NINETY-SE VEN A TTA CKED. 65 departed, and their place is occupied by flarinor spirit shops, raj^^ stores, blacksmiths' dens, sni.ill eatinij-houses, and blocks of dwellinj^s so very far from being clean or comfortable, that one might well wonder whether it would not be better to have the old reeking cauldrons of boiling fat back again in their place. * This is the place now,' said Alice in a rather despondent tone. *0h ! this, is it ?* echoed Pat still more dubiously. During the walk Pat's spirits had been rapidly cooling, and her scintillations of genius had been few indeed. The vast supply of ' pluck ' and ' general conversation ' lately boasted of by her were now somewhat conspicuously absent. A crisis was at hand. After a few yards of this via dolorosa had been slowly accomplished, Pat fairly turned, saying : * Do you know, Alice, I think it would be best for you just to strike up a little acquaintance with these people, and then I'll go with you another day ! * ' What ! running away already, Pat ) * * No, no ! not that ; but I fancy you are better at that sort of thing than I am — and — I want so much to go over to the Philosophical for that volume of Browning — what do you say, Alice? Would you think it unkind of me ? * * Unkind ? Oh no, Pat, nr)t at all. Mamma said you were rather young yet, you know, and I almost 66 JOCK HALLIDA V. think it may be as easy or easier to open a con- versation by one's self. Do just as you like, dear, about it ! ' ' You're an old darling, Alice ! Such a weight off my mind ! I'll write six chapters of Lorenzo the Lost to-night, — I know I shall, — my spirits are so revived/ * Off you go, then,* said Alice, laughing ; ' but don't expect me to read the whole six to-night, sfter iTiy solitary labours/ * I'll go now, Alice, though I feel horribly selfish, I must say ; but remember ! I mean to make myself of the greatest use on some future occasion/ So the two parted, Pat to seek the life and light of ir'rinces Street, via George IV. Bridge, and Alice to descend alone into the grimy vale. It was about eleven o'clock, and a bright, airy morning. Mrs. Lowrie, in her usual easy toilette, was lounging over the railing of her own landing, apparently on the outlook for any bit of gossip that might turn up. * Thio'U be some o' yer leddy veesitors, nae doot,* she said to herself in a contemptuous tone as Alice Glendinning's figure appeared at the stair-foot, for the girl peered timidly and dubiously about her in the darkening shadows of the entry. * Hech ! hech I things are come to a bonny pass when siclike cattle daur to dairken ma door 1 But I'll tak the NUMBER NINETY-SEVEN ATTACKED. 67 meesure o* that ane's fute easy — a feckless-like tawpie. ' Ye'il be seekin' for, some o' hus fowk in the stair, Miss, I'm thinkin',* she said aloud as soon as Alice arrived within hail. 'I'm seeking for everybody/ said Alice with a pleasant smile. * I should like to make some friends on this stair, and perhaps you will let me begin with you. May I ask your name first } My own is Glendinning, and I have come at your minister's request. He wants his people to become acquainted with each other, you know.* *0u ay. Weel, I hae nae objection, for my pairt. Lowrie's ma name an* ma gudeman's. But come awa in here an' rest ye a wee minute. We're plain workin' fowk, ye ken, but we're no ashamed o' that.* ' I should think not, indeed, Mrs. Lovvrie ! ' said Alice in her winning manner as she followed her guide into a dark passage, anvi then emerged into the clearer light of what was partly kitchen, partly shoemaker's workshop. The celebrated Tarn was not then visible, but numerous tokens of his handicraft were scattered broadcast over the dirty wooden floor, — bits of leatner, balls of rosin, m'lgs of paste, awls, tackcts, what not? It was difficult to find a spare corner for the visitor ; but Mrs. Lowrie scuttled about with wonderful activity, shovelling some dirty dishes otf ^ifli 68 JOCK HALLIDA V. one chair, and an empty porridge pan off another, and eventually got two scats ready; then ensconcing herself in one, she motioned Alice to the other. In front of them was the fire, or rather the grate ; for it was merely an indistinguishable mass of grey ashes, rapidly accumulating to a pyramid on the hearth below. At the farther end of the room a door opened Into a darker apartment blocked up with a large tent bed. Mrs. Lowrie did not allow the conversation to flag. ''Deed, as you say, Miss, we needna be ashamed ; for what are yer grand folk aifter a' but dust an' ashes like oorsels ! An' for a' their saft carpets an' cushions, losh keep me ! they canna dae wantin* the puir shoemakers.' ' Of course not ! But you know many of the grand people, as you call them, work just as hard as the shoemakers ! * * Aweel, I canna say ! Me an' ma gudeman has striven hard, early an' late, an' aye keepit up a respectable appearance, and brocht up a big family — to be a comfort an* a credit to hus ' — Mrs. Lowrie was interrupted by a violent fit of coughing. Perhaps her last statement had been rather strong for even herself to swallow ; for the police books could certainly h.' /e thrown a m.ore lurid light on the Lowrie fanily history ! ' That is very nice,' said Alice innocently. * You DUMBER iXJNETY-SE VEN A TTA CKED. 69 will be able to take thinc^s a little more easily, now that your family are up and doing so well.' ' Nae doot ! nae doot ! But it's aye a hard push for us pui»* folk to mak ends meet ; an' if ye hear ony word o' the coals or the cheap meal bein* distreebuted in the back end o* the year, ye'U no forget us. Miss.* ' Oh ! Mr. Towie will see to tJiat, you know ' — * Towie ! That's a lang-shankit lad, wi' starin' een, that rins about the Row whiles ? Ou ay ! He cam' in ae day an' had a crack wi' Tarn aboot polyteeks. Tarn thocht him raither wake i' the heid. He's a great polyteecian, ye see, ma man, an' he's awfu* taen up" the noo aboot that new law they're wantin' to mak in Paurliment. Preserve me ! what's this they ca't ? * Alice could not enlighten her. She was far from being a good * polyteecian ' like Tam ! * Aweel ! it's to dae wi' scrapin' mair siller oot o' us puir folk for the behoof o' some bic princie or ither, that must needs set up a hoose o* his ain. As m 1 Tam says, what for can he no tak a herrin' an' pitata like ither folk, instead o' drawin' the swat o' a haill nation to mak turtle-sowp for hees denner ? But your folk '11 be a' Tories, maist likely?' By what ingenious process the sweat of the nation was to be changed into turtle-soup, Mrs. Lowrie did 70 JOCK HALLIDA K not explain, and her visitor sat silent a moment, deeply reg^retting the unprofitable turn the con- versation had taken. Her heart sank within her. Would she ever do any good at all in the stair, if this was a sample of the intercourse she was to hold with its inmates ? * My father is a Liberal,* she said at last ; * but do you know, Mrs. Lowrie, I am old-fashioned enough to believe that a woman's politics should be //07;ie politics ! That we should try to keep t/iai little kingdom bright and pure and happy, and that if we do this, we may safely leave the larger kingdoms to other heads and other hands. But I must be going on now to make some more calls. I have a nice magazine here. Would you care to look it over? H you like the stories in it, you can have the others after- wards. Perhaps your husband is fond of a book ? * * Ou ay ! I hae nae objection. Thank ye kindly. Miss,' said Mrs. Lowrie in a very indifferent tone. She was not to be outdone in respect of the high moralities, however, by this young mushroom of a creature. * An' 'deed ye're no far wrang aboot the woman's wark, Miss. It's just what I aften say mysel'. Says I to Tam whiles, "Tarn, my man, says I, " redd ye up the Lords an' the Commons, an' I'll redd up my ain fireside ! " ' With this sublime sentiment, Mrs. Lowrie pre- pared to usher her visitor to the door. NUMBER NINE TY-SE VEN A TTA CKED. 7 1 loment, le con- lin her. stair, if to hold but do enough e home It Httle it if we oms to - going a nice er? II "s after- )ok?* kindly, t tone, e high n of a •ot the m say ' man, imons, e pre- As Alice Glendinning glanced at the 'ain fire- side ' thus referred to, she could not help thinking how few traces it showed of this noble determination ; but she tried to think and hope the best of her new friend. A loud yawn, or rather protracted howl, startled her at that moment. It came from the tent bed in the * ben room.' Mrs. Lowrie also started. * The gudeman was late at a meetin* last nicht,' she explained, 'an' was a wee thing forfochcn. He's no that strong, ye ken — sair fashed at times wi* a bile on the stamack.' Miss Glendinning expressed her sympathy, but retreated all the more quickly on finding that the great politician himself had been so near at hand all the time of her visit. ' Ye'U find them a geyan rough lot up the stairs. Miss, for a young leddy like you,' Mrs. Lowrie said in a loud whisper when they reached the landing. * Some of them are very poor, I suppose ? * * Puir ! No them ! if they wadna waste their money on drink and playaclin' an' the like. But 'deed, an' I needna speak, for I ken little aboot ma neebors. I just aye keep mysel' to mysel', an' never listen to their clavers. Thae folk in there they say's aivfiC wild.' (This was said with the corner of her apron up to her mouth.) *Some folk say the 72 JOCK HALLWAY. faither an' mttlier never were richt mairret, but I canna say for my pairt* * Good-bye, Mrs. Lovvrie,* said Alice Glendinning as quickly as she could, anxious to get away frum what she felt she ought not to listen to. Mrs. Lowrie looked after her as she disappeared, and muttered to herself, * She's mair spunk than I thocht, that ane I * :, but I dinning ly from peared, than I i CHAPTER VII. THE * LEDDY-VEESITOR'S ' PROGRESS. LICE GLENDINNING went on her way, trying hard to banish from her (Ltfi-^v^ mind the unpleasant surmises which Mrs. Lowrie's discourse had awakened there. Fortunately one or two doors were locked, the inmates being out at work probably — among these the door of that very couple over whose hymeneal rites Mrs. Lowrie had thrown so dark a cloud. And so, shortly after twelve o'clock — long before she could otherwise have accomplished it — the visitor found herself on the garret floor, with only four rooms to be explored. Jean Campbell's was one, and she was absent on her travels. Mary Morrison, the lame dressmaker, was sitting beside Mrs. Bruce, as she so often did, for company ; so one visit did for both. Agnes Bruce and Mary Morrison sat by the window, busy at work. Baby slumbered in his cradle. 73 74 JOCK HALLWAY, Effie played about the floor, with her beloved 'pig' beside her. It was a pretty and peaceful scene— quite a little green oasis, Alice Glendinning thought — after the dreary and dirty desert through which she had penetrated. Everything in the small room was scp'pulou^'y clean and tidy — the fiu.,ide swept, 'J j '. v' ».»,i^it and shining, table and chairs scrubbed wbs'e ^,.h the cotton 'seam* in Agnes Bruce's lap. She w\^.w")med her young visitor with simple kindliness and warmth, and it took only a very few minutes to make these three strangers feel as if they had been long and well acquainted. Effie put her hand shyly on the 'lady's' silken sleeve, and was soon telling her all about 'bonnic Lairgo Bay,' and how 'faither' had promised to take her there some day. 'Jock Halliday,* being another of Effie's favourite topics, was not forgotten, and her mother had to explain that it was a * big laddie ' next door who was ver\ kind to the little blind girl. Alice inquired after this youth with much interest, for she had not as yet beat up any recruits for her brother's class, and she resolved to make one desperate effort to secure Oor Jock.' ' What a nice view you have of our dear old churchyard !' she said, looking out from the little square window, with its screen of sweet-scented geranium and fuchsia, which overlooked the quiet THE ' LEDDY-VEESITORS' PROGRESS. 75 restinp;-place renowned in Scottish history as the scene the signing of tnc Covenant. There one des^la\'j alley, with mouldering ga*-e\vay and rusty chains still tells of cruel imprisonment suffered once, long, long ago, by many who bade faltering farewell th^ouj^h tnat very grating to the friends they loved the best, and were then led forth from it only to die. Around its walls are to be seen the crumbling and moss-grown monuments of many of the wealthiest and noblest families in Scotland. And there are to be found in close proximity the stately mausoleum of the bloodthirsty persecutor, and the lowly graves of a thousand saintly martyrs. It was a scene on which Alice Glendinning's eye^. loved well to rest, and she had a pleasant little chat with her new friends about the storms and persecu- tions of other days, all now happily at an end. * It is a bonnie an' a peacefu' spot, that auld kirk- yard,' said Agnes Bruce meditatively. * Aftentimes it minds me o' the quiet country place we cam' frae. No that it's ae bit like it, to be sure ; but there's maybe jist a wee thing o' the same calm sough aboot it, whan the wund waukens amang the trees, or the sound o' psalm-singin' comes frae yon grey wa's. It aye minds me then o' the paraphrase little Effie says real weel, about ** Whaur the wicked cease frae troublin , An' the weary are at rest.'" 76 JOCK HALLWAY, There was a sad and rather anxious look on her face as she said this, and her eyes glanced restlessly round the little room, as if there was some lurkinjj shadow there to trouble her. Alice Glendinnin^ wondered what it could be that made her look so, when all the outward circumstances of her lot seemed to suggest only joy and peace. But it was too soon to inquire, even in an indirect way. She would trust to time making her more of a friend and confidant in any little troubles, or even in greater ones, than she could hope to be just yet. So bidding them all a kind and cheerful good-day, she set off for her final call, which was reserved for Mrs. Halliday ■ — not, however, without noticing Effie's dear 'Penny Pig,' and slipping into it a little bit of silver, the pleasant jingle of which Effie detected in a moment, crying out : * Eh, mither ! bonnie, bonnie sound ! like the silver shells amang the rocks in Lairgo Bay.' ' Mrs. Halliday,* said Alice, stepping in at the door, which as usual stood gaping, ' I must come some other day, if you will let me, to make acquaint- ance ; but I promised to be home by one o'clock to-day, and must run for it ; only I have looked in for a moment to ask about your boy. He is not in just now, I suppose ?' * Oor Jock?' said Mrs. Halliday, laying down her work, for she had taken in some coarse sacks to make THE ' LEDDY-VEESITOKS' PROGRESS. 77 since the supplies from Sandy had fallen off so badly, — * Oor Jock ? 'Deed, he'll no be lan .^u think of it ? * Jock*s eyes had Segun to sparkle when the Persian rabbits were so skilfully introduced, and the monkey almost conquered him. ' Maybe I wull,' he said ; * whaur is't at ? * * At our house, Jock, in George Square, on Satur- day, at seven in the evening. We shall be so glad to see you. You won't forget ? Now, Pm only keeping you from your dinner, I know. See, here is my card with the right address.* So saying, she ran merrily off down the long stairs that she had ascended with such dark forebodings. Things looked so much better, she thought, now that she had really seen them, and here was one pupil at least fairly captured. Jock did not forget his engagement all that week, though his invariable answer to his mother's numerous reminders was, * Hoots ! Pm no hecdin' I* -^^ CHAPT}n:R VIII. MR. TOWIE'S *BAND OF HOPE.* *p^> HAT summer so bright and beautiful i^/t-4 faded, as such summers always will fade, only too soon from the grey towers and breezy slopes of Auld Reekie. It was followed, however, by an autumn almost as mild and beneficent as itself; and then at last came the serried forces of bluff old King Winter — biting frost, chill hail showers, and deep-lying snow- - more terrible by contrast with the past mildness, and bringing want and suffering in their train, especially to those poorer districts with which our story has so much to do. Mr. Halliday had not yet returned to the bosom of his family, and his remittances had been but few in number and trifling in value. On the wife and eldest son, therefore, had as usual devolved the task of providing for his family of some five or six hungry children. Mrs. Halliday was employed all day now 80 MR. TOWIE'S 'BAND OF HOPE: 8i iiautlful 11 fad- tower? llowed, d and le the -biting snow- - ildness, train, ich our bosom but few ife and he task hungry ly now at the Fountainbridge Rubber Factory, r.nd was, perhaps, quite as happy is usual ; but her house and bairns, committed to the care of Betsey — the young lady of skipping propensities — could not be said to improve, either the former in salubrity and cleanliness, or the latter in morals, manners, and deportment Fortunately for *Oor Jock,' he had another influence working on him for good. He had actually summoned up courage to go that Saturday evening, as invited, to Miss Glendinning's house, and had found the * claiss ' there to be of a much more attractive character than he had supposed possible. Arthur Glendinning had received him and the other lads — three or four about his own age and station — in a comfortable room looking out into a pleasant garden where most of the numerous * pets' were kept. And there was plenty of hot coffee and buttered scones ibr the boys before they began their work at all ; so that they went to their books and writing - copies with some vigour and comfort. Then after 'lessons,' which were as much an in- teresting conversation about the wonders of Nature and Art as anything else, they had a saunter in the garden, and were introduced personally to the Persian rabbits and all their associates. No wonder, perhaps, that Jock found his way back there nearly every Saturday evening after- I ' 82 /OCi: HALLIDA Y. wards, and no wonder either that other working lads were found glad to enjoy this breath of wholesome relaxation and improvement. Arthur Glendinning was quite delighted when he saw so many as a dozen eager and intelligent faces round his class- room table, and he had good cause to believe that they came not so much for the hot coffee and the scones as for things better and more enduring by far. The Glendinning girls often looked in upon them, either out-of-doors or in-doors, and made the acquaintance of each one — a circumstance which helped greatly to soften and refine the ideas and manners of most of the boys, not the least con- spicuously those of * Oor Jock.' He had learned unconsciously to be more particular about his own personal appearance — to dust the old shabby shoot- ing-jacket free from its superfluous coating of flour, and to tie .he faded tartan necktie so as not to reveal the ragged ends. Dr. Randal and Mr. Towie were both frequent visitors at Mr. Glendinning's, and with both of these, particularly the latter, Jock, as well as the other lads, soon became acquainted. Mr. Towie was, as Mrs. Lowrie had graphically described him, Mang- shankit, wi' starin' een;' for his eyes at least seemed always on fire with some new idea or project, while his short, stiff, brown hair was always bristling up, m \ 1^ ng lads >lcsome i inning" ^ as a class- ic that nd the ing by I them, le the which IS and it con- earned s own shoot- flour, lot to iquent these, other as, as Ian"-- emed while S up, ^i - B^ til :|1 ^"■■'.i|| A .\ /n III ,"! «"- :?^ I -I m k 1 MR. TO IVIES 'BAND OF HOPE.' 85 as if in sympathy therewith, and his lonf^, lithe form was continually to be seen rushing about on some parochial enterprise. Many a ^ime was he to be seen at Cowgatehead or King's Stables, up Lamont's Pend or Castle Wynd, in the centre of a knot perhaps of ragged urchins, perhaps of wizened crones, whom he was eagerly persuading to reform in some way or other — to join a Sunday class or a 'Band of Hope,' or to attend a meeting of some sort. It may be that Mr. Towie enjoyed the social charms of the lively old-fashioned drawing-room up-stairs, with Alice Glendinning's soft, dreamy music, and Pat's lively, rattling conversation, and felt tnat it was a great relief to drop in there now and then, after the dark closes and the filthy wynds he had so much of all day long, or even after the lonely dreariness of his own lodgings up three stairs in Keir Street ; yet he certainly did not even there neglect the work committed to his charge. •Jock,* he said one evening as he was in the garden anjong Arthur Glendinning's boys — 'Jock Halliday, I want you to make up your mind thoroughly about the temperance cause. I want you to put down your name just now as one < our new " Band of Hope." Will you do it V Jock's usual rejoinder was of course at hand : 'Hooh! I'm no heedinV 'Well, but Jock, you know, it's a thing you ought i >.\ \^ 86 JOCK HALLWAY. to consider carefully. Look at your mother's diffi- culties, poor woman, for instance, all through your father's unfortunate propensity to drink.' *Ay, weel, but I dinna ken what guid it wad dae me to pit ma name doon. I drink nacthing stronger nor pump-water frae June to Januar', and frae Januar' back to June again. What mair can 1 dae to keep afft.?' 'That's a good beginning, Jock — a grand begiti- ning ; but if you put down your name, it gives a sort of confirmation to the thing. It strengthens immensely your good resolution ; and — and then your influence over others, you know, Jock — that is a most important thing.' * Influence ?' said Jock, gaping with astoni.sh- ment. 'Yes, my man, influence. I mean that wratever one fellow does, a good many others are likely to do. Let 3'our influence be for good, Jock, not for evil' * I dinna ken,' answered Jock slowly, ' wha wad be likely to dae onything because Jock Halliday had dune't — unless it was onything daft-like, may- be,' he added with a laugh. 'Well, you know, Jock, there's that fellow up your own stair — William Bruce. You've more say with that family than I have by a long way. I doubt very much Willie is going to give us the slip I -i 1 MR. TOiVJKS 'BAND OF HOPE: 87 }r's diffi- gh your wad dae stronger ind frae m 1 dae d begin- gives a engthens nd then ck — that astoni.sh- tvratever likely to ock, not vha wad Hallida)' :e, may- How up aore say way. I the slip altogether, and that his poor wife and children will jtoon be in a most miserable condition. Now, couldn't you try to stop that fine fellow from ruining himself? Think over it, Jock.* Jock shook his head. * It's thae polytecks,' he said at last, rubbing his sandy hair. * It's a bad job when they tak to them, Tam Lowrie an' his set hae gotten a haud o' Willie, an' he gangs up to their club noo at nicht an* spouts awa. He thinks himsel* a gran' haun' at it, they say, I dinna ken aboot that ; but I ken, whan Tam Lowrie an' him comes hame, whiles they're no that sure whether theii heids or their heels are upmost* * Well, Jock, suppose you join the temperance band to-night, and tell Willie you've done it ? There's Miss Glendinning, though, calling us. Will ye go with me to the meeting to-niglit, and do it?' But in spite of all Mr. Towie's eagerness, — his eyes being nearly out of his head, and his hair quite perpendicular, — Jock only shook liis head once more, and uttered his usual indifferent response, ' I'm nae heed in'.' CHAPTER IX. SANDY'S HAME-COMIN'. -^T was zhc t two months after this conver- sation had occurred, when the early snow was lying deep in the streets, and the bitter winds were sweeping round every corner, that Mrs. Halliday received another letter from her absent spouse. It was very short. In fact, it only stated he would oe home on the following morning, he and his mates being about to start from London by the night ttun, their job being over, and Mr. Halliday's own health being far from good. It was eight o'clock when the letter arrived. Jock had come home for his breakfast, and read it aloud, aftei which he computed that his respected parent would be due in a couple of hours. It rather startled the little family circle, this bit of news. * Eh ! Jock, an' to think o' me wi' the hoose no redd up nor naethin' ! No that yer faither's awfu' perteeklur naither ; but he's been sae lang 88 SANDTS HAME'COMIN", 89 awa, an' Lunnon's siccan a gran' place forbye this ! ' * It's as weel ye're no at the fact'ry the day,* said Jock. * I'll rin doon an* see if Maistcr Braid can spare me ower to the station. He'll maybe need a lift wi' his cairrages.* * 'Deed ay, Jock, my man, that's wool thocht on,* said his mother cordially as she threw some sticks on the slumbering fire, and seized her ' fail- me-never,' — the old hairless besom, — proceedin;,; at once to rake the premises with it wildly as hereto- fore, in search of ' matter out of place ' (as dirt has been defined by a modern philosopher!). Some vague notion was evidently in her head that Sandy had been accustomed of late to many luxuries and refinements in the great metropolis — streets paved with gold probably being one of them — after which the aspect of Modern Athens would seem decidedly dull and prosaic! Some hours later, when Mrs. Halliday's fire had burned up a little, and her kettle had been got to boil in preparation for her husband's breakfast, she plunged her head out at the window, and, leaning on the iron beam before mentioned, began her anxious look-out. On a chair by the fire were a cracked cup and saucer, a spoutless teapot, and one or two articles of the family service. The viands consisted of (to use her own words) ' a muckle loaf, i 90 JOCK II ALU DA Y. a clad o' butter, an* a wlianfr o' cheese.* It might not be much, but it was vvaitinj^ there with a kindly welcome for one who had scarcely reason to expect much welcome of any sort. Many and many a time the blankets had all been in pawn, the cupboard had been bare, and the 'bairns sair hunj^ercd,' all because Sandy Halliday could not want his glass — not only one glass, certainly, but a good many. But Mrs. Halliday was good nature itself, and never a harder word escaped her than, * I'm jist racl vext aboot Sandy, dae ye ken I * * Eh, sirs me 1 ' she exclaimed after a short .scrutiny of the passers-by, 'there's Jock noo, comin' roon frae the Brig ; an' if that's no the gudeman hissel', Icanin' real heavy-like upon him. Preserve me ! What'll be wrang } Is't thae broon kadies again .-* I maun rin doon an* help Jock wi' him.' So saying, she lost no time in hastening down to the street ; but before she reached it, she met Betsey and the other children, who had been sent out of the way for a little time till * faither got sattled.' Betsey, however, had been on the alert while occupied with her skipping-rope, and came flying back now with the latest intelligence. ' Eh ! mither, faither's awfu' fou ! Jock canna get him hauden straught up for a' he can dae.' * Gae awa wi* yer havers, lasr.ie, an' dinna hinder me the noo/ cried the poor mother in an agitated SANDY'S IJAME-COMLV, 9« many. 1 never -1 vcxt short com in' Jeman cserve adies m.' down e met 1 sent r got alert came :anna inder tated voice as she pushed the girl away and ran up the Row as quickly as she could. Sandy's eccentricities she was well used to, and it was not a trifle that would strike her so deeply. A stat^gering gait or confused utterance might have been vexing enough, to be sure, just at his home- coming ; but Mrs. Ilalllday's practised eye saw tiiat something else was wrong too. She was quite right. Sandy Ilalliday had come home — a dvin^:^ man ! Jock had found no easy task waiting him at the Wavcrley Station ; for Mr. Ilalliday and his mates, who were kindred souls, had spent all the first part of their homeward journey in discussing the contents of several black bottles, and the latter part of it in endeavouring to sleep off the effects of the same. The other men, strong and hale, had accomplished this desirable end so far as to be able to stagger homewards unaided ; but Halliday, a worn-out man a^ the best, and now labouring under an incipient attack of his mortal enemy the * broon kadics,* could only reel help- lessly about on the platform till he was gr.sped and steadied by the stronger arm of his son. Jock took the same view if the case as his sister Betsey had done, and he was on!) angry — not alarmed in any way. Uttering a few growling reproaches, he gathered up the few ' cairrages ' his father IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) f/. Zt ^ ^ =^ 1.0 I.I UiU2^ |2.5 1^ llilio 12.2 JJL 1.25 .1.4 1.6 * 6" ► Va A '/ W Hiotographic Sciences Corporation # ;.>^ L1>^ # \\ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. MSSO (716) 872-4SC3 N' ^^>^^\ ■<<*.'* ye a Betty departed, laden with the grateful thanks of the whole party; and Jock went with her, as in duty bound, to see her safely home, and to carry the empty basket. As it was getting late now, and she was so much of a stranger in the city, Betty did not despise so stalwart an escort. And before long sweet sleep and peaceful rest had fallen softly over the Halliday garret ^-frfi H ^i 1 i 1 ) ■: It CHAPTER XII. A NEW EXCITEMENT. HAT long, hard winter, with its cheerless skies and pitiless storms, passed away at Si last by slow but sure degrees, giving way in its surly fashion to the boisterous mirth of March and the soft but changeful moods of April. The old lime-trees in George Square Gardens flushed out into leafy beauty again, brightened here and there by purple lilac or golden laburnum. And in the Meadows and on the Links again the silvery gowans shone and sparkled in the sunlight, while the air grew glad around them with the voices of children in their play. The Glendinnings and their new Edinburgh friends had found a fresh source of interest and excitement in the prospect of a grand bazaar which was to take place in the Music Hall some time during the sittings of the General Assembly, when it was hoped the ^lany ministers, with their wives and families, would 118 A NEW EXCITEMENT. 119 swell the number of buyers. The object of this bazaar was to raise funds for the mission work in the Grassmarket ; a reading-room, a library, a coffee' house, and other institutions being much wanted there. Into this movement Mrs. Glendinning had thrown herself with all her warmth of heart and customary energy. She was to take charge of one of the largest stalls, besides acting as secretary for the committee along with their friend, Miss M'Gibbon. And so from that time forward No. — George Square became a scene of bewildering arrangements and preparations, often laughed at by Mr. Glendinning and the boys, yet ably seconded, too, both by them and the girls, as well as by numerous visitors, cousins, schoolfellows, and so forth. What numberless luncheon parties — what scores of afternoon teas — had to be held for the due discus- sion of this all-important business ! Innumerable friends and relations had to be written to about * work 'I They had to be coaxed to send 'work;* threatened with utter estrangement if they failed to send * work ; ' bullied, tormented, entreated, adjured to send ' work '! And the result was that by and by every corner in that large, many-roomed house of theirs began to bristle all over, bulge out, and finally boil over with the said 'work.' Bales of anti- mr.cassars, piles of cushions, footstools and sewed II I20 JOCK HALLIDA Y, chairs by the dozen, hampers of babies' boots, and trunk-loads of tea-cosies and pen-wipers — these were the abundant harv^est of that busy seed-time ! But the seed-time itself was by no means an un- pleasant period. It was full of new amusement and fresh interest for the young people especially. Alice Glendinning went on daily helping in her own quiet, sensible way ; while the genius of the family herself even discarded her prolific pen, and stuck to this new object of enthusiasm for a much longer period of time than she had ever been known to do in former instances. Indeed, * Lorenzo the Lost,' though at the most critical stage of his romantic and thrilling career, had been recklessly consigned to that fatal top-shelf in the 'press,' which had already proved the tomb of so many flashes of intellectual fire. These bazaar arrangements also necessitated a deal of intercourse between the Glendinnings and their good minister Dr. Randal, who was the chief promoter of the movement. Indeed, scarcely a day now elapsed that did not see the Doctor rounding th^ corner that separated his own house on the east side of the Square from that of the Glendinnings on the south ; while his face was seen to light up with a fresh touch of cheerfulness or sparkle of fun as he encountered some of the younger members of this happy and warm-hearted family. Mr. Towie was also frequently to be met — flying, A NE W EXCITEMENT. 121 as was his wont — in the direction of No. — , eager to be the bearer of fresh intelligence, perhaps, or the suggester of some new idea on the all-important subject. Other things, however, were not forgotten, nor other people forsaken, meanwhile. Alice, for in- stance, visited her district faithfully, making herself better and more intimately acquainted, week by week, with the various characters to be found there. And Arthur, on his part, was carrying on his little class with more success than ever. It was wonderful how much ground his boys had gone over already, and how their interest had been awakened and deepened concerning many branches of study, both sacred and secular. The history of their own land, for one thing, had assumed a much more real and lively aspect in their eyes ; and when Alice Glendinning played to them, as she often did, the grand old Jacobite songs, it was with a full and intelligent appreciation that they joined in singing the words, and not after the manner of Geordie Roy, one of the most musical of their number, who, in the earlier part of the session, had given an answer somewhat wide of the mark. Geordie had sung — and sung remarkably well, too —from * The Auld Hoose : ' • An' the leddy, too, saegenty, there sheltercJ Scotland's heir, An' clipp't a lock wi' her ain hand frae his lang yellow hair.' I2t JOCK HALLIDAY. 'Now, Geordie,' cried Patricia, who had dashed into the room for something, * are you quite sure you know who he was ?* 'Wha?' asked Geordie, staring very hard. * Why, the man whose hair the old lady cut off, to be sure I' *0u ay, I ken that!^ exclaimed Geordie, very much relieved in his mind. ' It was Samson ! ' Arthur Glendinning laughed heartily, while Pat rushed out of the room, too much shocked to reply. But they know all about ' Bonnie Prince Charlie * now, and about many a better and more respectable hero, too. It was on one of those sweet, clear evenings of the lengthening spring that Jock Halliday, having finished his lessons, and having lingered behind his companions to take one more look at his favourites in the back garden — the Persian rabbits — was at last slowly leaving the Glendinnings' house for his own home. At that moment a quick step was on the pavement by his side, and a familiar voice said : 'Jock Halliday ! The very man I wanted.' Jock turned and gladly recognised the minister. Dr. Randal was a man of slight, spare form, and rather under middle height, yet so well-proportioned that it would never have occurred to any one to call him a ' little man.' A sort of mild dignity, peculiar to himself, gave a tinge of reserve to his intercourse b^M A NEW EXCITEMENT. 123 with strangers ; but to more intimate friends his warm and graceful courtesy added a fresh charm to his society. [Edinburgh was long privileged to claim this philanthropic clergyman — so pure and beautiful in character, so refined and cultivated in mind and manners — as one of her best and most useful citizens ; and when at last the veteran soldier of the Cross laid down his arms, many a grateful heart, many a loving memory turned sorrowfully towards his distant grave beside the blue waters of the Mediterranean.] Il I CHAPTER XIII. MRS. TUCKER AND HER VISITOR. ;HE very man I wanted/ repeated the minister. * I wish this letter delivered to my brother, and to have an answer from him, as soon as may be, to-night, Jock. Could you go over with it now to Melville Street, wait for a reply, and then bring it to my house ? I will take it as a great favour if you will do so. It is a matter of some little importance, and I know I can {rust j'ou, Jock, not to loiter by the way.' * Ou ay, sir,' said Jock readily. M hae naethin' else on hand jist the noo. I'll no be lang o' stappin* wast.' He was highly pleased both with the com- mission and the compliment, though he tried to speak with his usual nonchalance. And so, having received his instructions, he set off at a rapid pace with a letter in his breast pocket addressed to Dr. Randal, — Melville Street, pro- mising to be back as soon as possible. 124 MRS. TUCKER AND HER VISITOR. 125 Melville Street looked rather dismal in its spa- cious and solemn west-end grandeur, with the red flush of the late sunset still linfjerinfr on its win- dows, and only a chance passer-by now and then disturbing the silence of its pavements. Jock almost started as his own tackety shoes rang on their unfamiliar flags, and he touched the bright brass knocker at No. — with some nervous trepi- dation. The door was opened immediately by an old housekeeper, in a rusty black silk gown, large apron, and cherry-ribboned cap, who spoke in a high, shrill voice, with a Cockney accent, which Jock did not easily understand. 'Yes, young man,' she said in answer to Jock's bashful inquiry, 'this is the right 'ouse ; but my master is not at 'ome, nor won't be for 'alf-an-'our yet, most likely ; so if you must *ave an answer to- night, you 'ad best come in and wait a bit. If this is from my master's brother, as I reckon it is, it must be attended to — not a doubt of it' Jock hung back modestly, saying he would call acfain in half an hour for the answer: but Mrs. 1 ucker being indeed rather anxious for some one to enliven her solitude that evening, courteously renewed her invitation. 'You can wait in my own parlour, young man, and welcome. There is a nice bit o' fire on, for the hevenings is still chilly ; and me bein' all alone in m ii. ia6 /OCUr HALLIDA Y. this great big 'ouse makes me feel lonesome, I do declare ! ' So Jock followed Mrs. Tucker into her own trig little parlour on the ground floor, and sat down by the fire, while she bustled about the room, * rum- maging' for some keys she had lost, and carrying on her monologue all the time. * Yes, it's a bit lonesome, as I say ; but that minx Martha 'ave set up a young man of her own this last term, and she will allays be haskin out to rake about the streets with him — convenient or incon- venient, it's all one to Martha! Often I says to her, " Martha, mark my words ! These young men o' yours '11 bring you no good yet. Look at the way they've taken to lately — assassinatin' the very gals they 'ave kept company with ! Cleaving of their skulls v/ith 'atchets, an' bangin* off revolvers at 'em, or blowing 'em up with gunpowder ! It's enough to put young men out o' the fashion, Martha," says I. ^' Do just read the Heveniri! Noos for yourself about it," says I.' Jock felt rather sorry for the absent Martha having the subject of sweethearting presented to her in such a discouraging light ; but Mrs. Tucker looked as if her 'bark might be worse than her bite.' She had found the keys now, and took her own arm-chair opposite to him, and prepared for a more regular chat. MRS. TUCKER AND HER VIS r TOR. 127 'You've a bit o* crape on your cap, youn^f man ?* she remarked in a tone of inquiry, and before long Jock had confided to her the whole story of the 'broon kadies,* and his father's death, in which the old housekeeper took a lively interest, albeit greatly in the dark as to the malady in question. ' They're a sair trouble, them ! * quoth Jock. ' Ah, indeed, yes ! Trouble to be sure, as you say, my lad. But what may your name be, by the way 1 * 'Jock — John Halliday, that is,' answered Jock. * Why ! the very name of the book as I've been a-readin* of this afternoon. To be sure it is— /o/m Halifax — Getitleman. See, there it is in print, John ; or Jock, as you Scotch folks say ! ' Mrs. Tucker flourished a greasy-looking volume before his eyes, and Jock was too much confused to be able to contradict her. 'Well, you don't just want the "gentleman" after it, I suppose } ' she went on, laughing good- humouredly. 'But who knows wot you may be, some day ? And " 'ansom is that 'ansom does " is allays my motto. You see, John Halifax, I took up this vollum by chance, as it were, for that idle piece Martha had left it about. So I comes upon a pretty bit about a little blind jirl called Muriel, an' that set me a thinkin', John Halifax; I do assure you it did.' r li , ) III 128 /OCA' HALLIDA V. Jock showed much more interest in the book as soon as the little blind girl was mentioned. 'That maun be a fine story,* he said. ' Yes, indeed, John Halifax, a very fine story ; but wot I thought about it was this. If that poor little creatur had only been alive in my master's day, who knows but he might 'ave cured her, as he has cured so many } Ah ! wot a blessed thing it would 'ave been for that poor father as doated upon her so — deary me, so it would.' This was too much for Jock. * Hooh ! ' he said rather contemptuously, * there's nae man leevin' can dae the like o* that* Mrs. Tucker drew herself up proudly, and smoothed out the folds of h^.: apron with some asperity. *I beg you will remember, young man, w/io my master is. Dr. Philip Randal, the most celebrated hoculist as this blessed world 'as hever seen. That means a doctor for the /leyes, young man ! for, perhaps, you do not know i/iat either ? ' Jock shook his head doubtfully. * Maybe sae,' he answered, * maybe sae, but I never heard his name afore.* 'Never 'eard his name!* It was quite a shriek that accompanied these words. * Never 'eard the name of Dr, Philip Randal^ a man as the whole AfRS. TUCKER AND HER VISITOR. 129 of Europe, not to mention the Continent, is pmtid of! But I pity your ignorance, young man. You will know better in time.' Jock was quite frightened at what he had done, and hastened to express his great regret, saying that he knew himself to be only a very ignorant fellow, and that he would like much to hear of this great man of whom Europe was so proud. Mrs. Tucker's ruffled feathers were soon smoothed again, and she proceeded to discourse fluently on a very congenial theme. * Not only Europe and the Continent,* she began, * but the British dominions as well — all know the name of Dr. Philip Randal, and 'ave 'card of his wonderful cures. There may be savage Ili'hinds, young man,* she added in an argumentative tone, — 'there may be — I do not denige it — where people 'ave 7iot 'card of my master ; but if these are poor benighted critturs as worship stocks an' stones, and wear next to nothin* but some feathers on their 'eads, who can wonder at them ? ' Jock admitted that these unfortunate savages were not so much to blame, but felt that he must class himself along with them. He also expressed a desire to hear some of the wonders performed by this celebrated man. * The most re — mar — kable — cures ! ' said Mrs. Tucker, holding up her hands and turning up i)iiir 130 JOCK IIALLIDA Y. II licr eyes. * " Don't call 'em cures," says my friend Mrs. Miig^nns to mc — "don't call 'em cures, my dear, but viiraclcs !'^ " No," says I, •* Mrs. Miij^^ins. No! It would be contrairy to Scripture," says I, "and that I will not give in to. We are poor human beings," says I, " so don't name the word miracle to me ! " But if you could 'avc seed the poor critturs over in Germany, John Halifax, w'ere me an' my master 'ave been for years, a-comin' day arter day with their cattertacks an* one thing an' another, as blind as beetles, an* then seed them agoin* *ome some fine day lookin* you full in the face an* cryin* with joy at the sight — believe me, John Halifax, you'd *ave said Mrs. Muggins warn't far out !-^yer would indeed I ' Jock scratched his head violently. Something was evidently working in his mind, and this was his usual way of helping it out. * Folk aye says,' he ejaculated at last, * that a man canna open the een o* them that's born blin'.' ' Born blind } No, John Halifax, neither they can. That's in the Scriptures, as I said before, and that I never will go agin. But I've 'card my master say, over and over again, that if ever they saw at all, were it but for a day, they might be cured. If so be other circumstances were favour- able, an' they fell into the hands of a skilful MRS. TUCKER AND HER VISITOR. 131 hoculist — one like my master, you know ; but there are very few like him.' Jock's countenance brightened considerably. Little Effie, of whom he had been thinking, had not actually been born blind, but had seen, though only for a short time during her infancy, and this Jock had learned from Agnes Bruce only lately. * He'll get a gey lot o* siller for a' that, I'm thinkin',' suggested Jock with a new idea stirring in his mind and making his colour rise. 'Silver — John Halifax, silver!' cried the old housekeeper disdainfully ; ' never less than a gold piece crosses my master's hand, I do assure you. One at the very least for a consultation, as it is called, and then ' — But the good old lady was suddenly interrupted by the sharp click of a latch-key, and then a quick step across the hall. * Any letters for me, Mrs. Tucker .? * asked the Doctor in a cheery voice. ' Oh, only this note 1 Let me see it.' In a few minutes Jock was despatched on his return journey with a reply in his pocket. He strode hastily along, whistling softly to himself as he went, his shaggy head full of a new idea. CHAPTER XIV. * GOING DOWN HILL.' I U T was only too true about poor Willie Brucx;, yt!^ For months past he had been going from ^^^^^ bad to worse ; getting more and more taken up with Tarn Lowrie and the roystering ' politcecians' oi" the Auld Harrow Inn, and less and less so witl\ his own innocent fireside circle. There were aiixioiii; and troubled looks now on Agnes BruceVi once happy countenance, and little Effie's frock was very si.abby, and her round cheeks were growing thin and white — for it was little indeed of the week's wage that came in now-a-days ; while many and many ;i day Willie only lounged, idle and sulky, at his ow: hearth, too heav^y and headachy even to attempt lis work. All this culmina':ed at last, as might very naturally be expected, in a sharp and brief dismissal. And now his poor wife felt that the dark shadow she had so long feared had indeed closed around her. It was a brave resistance she had made all these GOING DOWN hill: "^Zl months back, doing her best to keep the wolf from the door, and all warm and well within. Both ends had been made to meet somehow, though it was a sore pull ; but now the worst had come to the worst, and there was little before them but to ask for help — even charity — from relatives in the old Fifeshire village who could but ill afford to give it. Agnes Bruce had a spirit of independence within her, born of the good old Scottish peasantry, and this was a bitter pill for her to swallow. But as the weeks wore on, and there was no word of Willie getting into work again, and when the needle- work she toiled over early and late utterly failed to support them, it had to be done. How bare and desolate the little room looked, now l-hat so many of their best bits of furniture had silently disappeared one by one in some quiet gloam- ing hour — the pawnbroker best knew where ! 15ut perhaps the hardest lines were in the fact that Willie himself was so sorely changed — so cross and sullen now to the wife who loved him so dearly, and so short and snappish to the little children, once all his pride and delight. The Lowries themselves were not without some sort of compunction for the ruin they had been instrumental in bringing about. Tarn smoked his black cutty pipe more thoughtfully by the fire now, and sometimes delivered an interlocutor on the case. fp ' *34 /OCi: HALLIDA K * Ye see, wife/ quoth Tarn, * there's a differ amang heida a.9 weel as amang feet. Some men hae heids that can cairry a' thae wechty affairs o' the State an' no be a hair the waur ; some, again, are that wakcly that theirbrains jist gae bizzin' roun Hke a tee- totum when they try to get a grupp o' the subjeck. An' that's the way, I'm thinkin', wi' Wullie Bruce.* * Hhn a tce-totuni !' skirled the faithful partner of Tarn's joys and sorrows. * Ye're as like ane yersel, Tam, as Wullie Bruce is ! It's jist thae sleekit scoon'rcis that gang up till Towie's meetin's that's ca'd that ! An' they tell me Jock Halliday's ane o* them mair betoken. It's aneuch to pit tee-totums oot o' faushion to hae Jock ane o' them I* * Hoots, woman ! It's tee-toU/es ye're thinkin' o' ! As Sandy Wudd says, "Talk to a woman, an' ye talk to a fule."' * I'd just like to hear Sandy say that till's ain wife!' cried Mrs. Lowrie triumphantly. * There'd be geyen few hairs left in /its carroty pow or he gat his answer ! It's " 7io ilka cock that c 'aws best in its ain midden," in ma opeenion !* Mrs. Lowrie chuckled so long and loudly over this new rendering of a.i ancient proverb, and over the imaginary defeat of the scurrilous 'Sandy Wudd,* that she had quite recovered htr good humour by the time she was done, and the course of domestic converse ran more smoothly after that. • GOING DOWN HILL.' 135 Jock Halliday slipped into the !C uccs' garret for a few minutes on his return home that evening, having it in his mind to introduce the subject of Dr. Philip Randal and his wonderful cures, if he saw the slightest grounds of hope that the family might ere long be able to afford a consultation. But things looked worse and more discouraging even than he had imagined. Willie Bruce, with eyes bloodshot and heavy, and hair matted and wild, had got to the defiant stage, and sat moodily by the hearth, growl- ing at all the world in general and his late employers in particular. He announced his intention of leaving the country immediately (by what means he did not condescend to explain), and no longer seeking work from a blackguardly and rascally company of scoundrels and tyrants thdt had screwed all the life out of him, and given him no more than dog's wages for it all. No ! he was a free man and a citizen as good as any of them were, and he v/asn't going to be trampled into the dust for their patent leather to tread upon ! Not he ! He had done that long enough to please some people (here he gave his poor wife a very withering look!) — some people who showed mighty little gratitude for it too — but he was done with that ! Just see if he wasn't I * The rank is but the guinea stamp, the man's the ' — 'Wheesht, man!' interrupted Jock Halliday at this stage of the proceedings, * dinna mak a fule o' 136 JOCK HALLIDA K yersel nae mair nor ye are ! That's " cauld kail het again " o' Tarn Lowrie's — we a' ken that jaurgon !* Willie turned an infuriated look upon this im- pertinent youth, and rose as if to throttle him ; but Agnes Bruce stepped quickly in between them, and with a new tone of authority in her voice, bade her husband sit down again, and Jock to leave them for the present. While Jock turned reluctantly away he was arrested by a Httle incident, very trifl'ng in itself, but which proved sufficient to keep him awake for an hour or two that night. Willie Bruce had staggered back to his chair at the resolute bidding of his helpmeet, but as he did so his eye caught sight of poor little Effie's treasured 'penny pig,' now well-nigh full of copper coins, with a modest admixture of silver. Many and many times the little blind child jingled these gaily to herself, or in her mother's ear, prattling all the while of bonnie summer days to come, when * faither ' would take them all to * Lairgo Bay ' to hear the big waves plashing round the rocks, and to %^x a fine sail in Geordie Sharp's boat. Agnes Bruce could only sigh when Effie said all this, knowing how faint and far away those golden dreams of happier days were fast becom- ing in her own heart. Still she would not dash the one little cup of pleasure from the tiny hands that had so few to carry. And Effie's store was *GOIVG DOWN hill: 137 safe enough — she had never doubted that ! How- ever pinched and straitened the family circum- stances might be, the thought of borrowing one penny from Effie's pig had not once even occurred to her. It could not have been safer in the bank itself, with all its bolts and bars and fire- proof safes, than it was in this stepmother's hands. But Willie Bruce's fevered, bloodshot eyes had rested on the brown crock often enough lattly with a hungry, covetous look, and to-night — in his bitter and rebellious mood — he went farther than that. He even clutched the treasure with his shaking hand, and tried to push it into one of the pockets of his shabby coat. But Agnes was quicker than himself. She darted on him like lightning, her mild face changed in a moment to one of indignant scorn, and seizing the drunkard's weak, nerveless arm, forced him to resign his prey. *Ye fause-herted loon!* she exclaimed; then, instantly falling back into her usual tender and gentle ways, * O ! Willie, Willie ! wad ye meddle wi' the wean's bit gear ? — yer wee b 'in' lassie ! ' Willie did not answer. He slunk back to his seat silent, and perhaps ashamed, while his wife replaced the toy with trembling haste. Jock had sprung forward to help her, but seeing it was unnecessary, hastened to withdraw altogether, as she silently motioned him to do. ti 1/ ? (■ I CHAPTER XV. 'STOP thief!* ;OCK HALLIDAY passed but a restless night. What with his recent excite- ment about the Penny Pig, and Willie Bruce's attempted raid on it, besides wandering thoughts and wild conjectures regarding the great eye-doctor and one particular cure he might yet accomplish, he found it quite impossible to fall into his usual deep, unbroken slumber. It was only four o'clock when he started from his bare, comfortless bed, wide-awake, and firmly resolved not to lie another minute, but to go out and see what the 'caller air* would do to cool his heated brain and refresh his wearied powers. The cold grey dawn was just coming in through the dingy, uncurtained window of their little garret. It was too soon to disturb his mother, who snored and slumbered blissfuV/, surrounded by her nume- rous flock in the big tent bed beyond the fireplace ; 188 'STOP THIEF r 139 and Jock's toilet arrangements being of the briefest and simplest description on all occasions, were now minimized so as not to arouse even the most wakeful of the family. In a few moments he found himself standing at the * stair-fit/ looking sleepily enough up and down the steep Candlemaker Row, which was as yet shrouded in silence and slumber. Now that he was out in the open air, what was he to do } Where was he to go } Mr. Braid's bakehouse did not open till five at the earliest. Suddenly there was a swift foot on the stairs behind him — a man banged up against him, and almost sent him spinning into the niddle of the road. At the same time he heard the jingle of some coins in the man's pocket — a curious sort of jingle too, hard and loud, as if they were contained in some box or coffer — a peculiar sound, yet one not unfamiliar in Jock's ears. The man had darted past him, and was about to rush down towards the Grassmarket, when, quick as thought, Jock Halliday gripped him by the sleeve. *Wullie Bruce!' he ejaculated. He could say nothing more. He knew now the man's errand, and what the rattling sound was. Willie Bruce had stolen his blind child's pennies after all, and was off to turn them into whisky as soon as ever the publicans would let him ! 'Hands aff!' growled the older man with an 140 JOCK HALLIDA K % oath. * I'll fell ye to the plainstanes gin ye dinna lowse yer grip ! * He was a strongly-built man, and, though now but the wreck of what he had been, he was stronger still for the moment with fury and desperation. With one fierce thrust he managed to get the better of his antagonist, who, of course, was but a half-grown stripling, very insufficiently fed. Poor Jock's head suffered pretty severely, being actually ground against the wall, while the full force of "VVillie Bruce's left hand descended at the same time upon the luckless pate. And then the reckless drunkard was off like the wind upon his miserable and selfish expedition ! For a few seconds Jock lay stunned and almost unconscious upon the steps, but no longer. As he said himself afterwards, 'anger did him mair guid than ony cordial could hae dune.* He was so determined that the villain should not succeed after all Agnes Bruce's efforts — or should not escape easily — and with that prize too ! Swifter than one can tell it, Jock was after his opponent ; down to the wide open Market, that was just beginning to awake — across it and up the Bow — round again by George IV. Bridge and back to the other end of their own narrow Row. So it was they went, Willie Bruce flying like the guilty, hunted creature he was, and Jock tearing along after him in red-hot pursuit Jock was 'STOP THIEF r 141 gaining on his adversary every moment, and his eager excitement made him forget all about the pain he felt, and the blood that was streaming down his face and on to his ragged shirt, iic was almost done, though, for want of breath and want of vigour, when Bruce darted up a dark entry at the Cowgatehead, which they had once more reached in their circuitous flight. It was a narrow, filthy place, but it belonged to a ruinous and deserted tenement, and so was quiet and secure of interruption. Here Bruce turned boldly on his pursuer, and began to wrestle with him as before. It would soon have gone very hard with the lad, but not even at the worst did he relinquish his efforts at the recovery of little Effie's treasure. 'Gie me back Effie's bawbees,' he articulated aa well as he could while the struggle went on. *Just gie me tJiainiy an* I'll lat ye gang yer ain gait ! * * You^ ye vaigabon' loon that ye are ! What business hae yott wi* my bairn's siller ? Can I no dae what I like wi't mysel' ? ' * No ! ' said Jock stoutly, though his breath was beginning to fail him sadly, and the burly country- man's hand was still tightening upon his throat. * Are ye — a man — ava, that — ye can — rob the puir blin* lassie } ' he managed to ejaculate with difficulty. ' Ha ! ha ! * laughed the other scornfully — a wild and miserable laugh. *Blin' folk are the best to rob, for they canna see ye — div ye no ken that ? ' 142 JOCK HALLIDA Y. fil I The cruel and pitiless jeer roused Jock's failing powers. He threw himself afresh upon his an- tagonist, and fairly wrenched the brown, jingling thing out of his clutch. As he did so he retorted on the heartless father : ^ Blind f Ay, God be thankit she couldna see it was her ain faither's haun' that robbed her ! Oh, man ! there's maybe better een than oors that watch her an' the like o* her I ' « Poor Jock ! This outburst of rough and homely eloquence seemed destined to be his last effort ! Was it the lingering chime of that text he had heard Alice Glendinning teaching some little ones in her Sunday class to repeat, only a short time before, * Their angels do always behold the face of my Father which is in heaven * ? It was a rough blow that felled him to the ground almost before the last words had left his lips, and he lay bleeding profusely and quite un- conscious at the foot of the broken, deserted stairs. Willie Bruee, terrified now at what he had done, was about to fly, but to his horror and astonishment found himself pinioned by two strong policemen, who had just then entered the stair, attracted by the voices within. Their bull's-eye lanterns flashed light instantly on Jock's pale and blood-stained countenance, and that sight made the unhappy drunkard's overthrow complete. He had no longer any nerve to resist, 'STOP TITTEF!' MS or any desire to fly. He fynly threw himself down, sobbing bitterly beside what he supposed to be the dead body of his former friend, slain by his own hand, and refused to answer any inquiries made by the officers of justice. In a few minutes, however, these gentlemen had arranged the affair according to their own ideas. It was a case of common theft, they decided. Here was the booty, and these two drunk men had quarrelled over the division of it, as was quite usual and very natural in the circumstances. A stretcher was soon procured for the insensible prisoner, and the other was handcuffed and marched in pro- cession after it between two other policemen, quickly summoned for the occasion. And in this fashion poor Jock and the more unhappy Willie Bruce, along with little Effie's jingling penny pig, were conducted up the Bow and down the High Street to the gloomy regions of the police station, there to await the leisure of the magistrates. It was quite daylight now, and the sun had broken cheerily through his thick mantle of grey, and was lighting troops of workmen on their various ways. Many a one looked round as the little band moved slowly past, and not a few recognised Jock and his comrade, wondering what mischief they had got into so early in the day. But the police en- couraged no conversation, and the affair remained a mystery. ill CHAPTER XVI. 'IN THE POLICE OFFICE.' tM< Y the time he arrived at the office Jock Halliday was so far recovered as to sit up and look wildly about him, staring at the blank walls and the burly officers round him as if they were all fi Why, it takes a perfect curriculum of study to appreciate these things, my dear. Let me see them. Yes ; indeed they are lovely^ my child ! Oh, the sweetness of that delicate moulding ! The quaint truthfulness of this fluted column. Patricia, my darling, you have made me quite envious of your baker's boy ! He won't part A GOLDEN SHILLING, 169 with these trcii^jures ardcr a foiiune — a king's ransom ! ' 'Oh, indeed, Lady iJacres, he will let you have them for r. mere trifle, and be ffiuukjiill Just wait till I ask him!' Pat was off in a moment, and returned quickly with the tidings that Jock Halliday would consider himself lucky beyond measure to get his un- fortunate shilling restored to him in lieu of the precious candlesticks. She found her ladyship still gloating eagerly over these gems, dilating to all around her on graceful curves and exquisite finish, which were all but invisible to such un- tutored eyes as theirs. M shilling r she exclaimed. *Yes, indeed, he shall have that' But it was a golden shilling which Lady Dacres drew from her now v/ell-nigh exhuujted purse, and which she pushed into Pat's hand, saying, * Pray, offer him this in my name, and say if he considers it sufficient, / am more than delighted with the purchase ! * In vain Pat remonstrated on this fresh extrava- gance. In vain she described the boy's disgust at his fate, and the value which a bit of silver had in his eyes. Lady Dacres was quite angry at the idea of cheapening the * Queen Aniiers! * Am I to deprive the poor innocent youth of his birthright,' she exclaimed in her usual high-flown 170 JOCK JIALLIDAY. style of lanj^uage, * simply because he is ignorant of its true value? Shall I give him a mess of pottage, and pretend that that is a fair equivalent for so divine a gift? My beautiful candlesticks! In- deed, I should have no pleasure in contemplating them, if they were to remind me of so base an action!* So Jock Halliday was forthwith dragged up by Patricia to receive in person, with many bows and scrapes and muttered thanks, the shining sovereign, which he could hardly at all understand to be his own, Lady Dacres accompanying it by a few kind and gracious words, which the boy felt he would always treasure in his heart. lie made straight tracks for Miss Alice's stall now, and actually laid out another shilling in some useful and pretty presents for his mother and all at home ; for at that late hour things were going at the * tremendous sacrifice ' rate. Alice Glendinning warmly congratulated Jock on his good fortune, but she was a little puzzled by his reply. * I'm no wantin' them at hame to ken o*t — no jist yet,* he whispered. 'Wad ye mind keepin't quate ? ' * No ; certainly not, if you wish it, Jock/ she returned hesitatingly. * But you don't have many secrets from your mother, I hope ; she would have been so glad to know of this.* A GOLDEN SHILLING, »7i Jock hung his head. *Ay, I ken that fine. But— but— Miss Alice, it's no for nae vvrang I'm hidin't. Will ye trust me ? It's no for lang.* There was an earnest, pleading tone in his voice that touched her, and there was the usual open, honest look in his eyes when he raised them to her face. She was sorry in a moment for having ever suspected him. * All right, Jock,' she said cheerily. ' Indeed, I can trust you or any of my boys. I will keep your little secret till you tell me. Don't be afraid.* Soon after that the great bazaar, like everything else, came to an end, and silence and repose settled on the now empty Hall. Everybody was highly satisfied with its success — none more so th'an Dr. Randal, who learned with joy that ;^ioc>o would be left clear, after all expenses were paid, for his mission buildings •**■« •Vfi '"^ CHAPTER XX. A CONSULTATION. f ' RS. TUCKER had a very busy time of it during all that Assembly season. So many people, taking advantage of their rare visit to the Metropolis, came to consult her master regarding their eyesight, that it be- came no sinecure to act as his portress. On one bright afternoon in particular, she was about to throw up the sponge altogether, and had given orders for 'that slut, Martha,' to get herself up for answering the door, and to mind her manners, and not usher the patients in all higglety-pigglety in a promiscuous way, as there was nothing more likely to make her good master angry than that was. Martha's toilet, however, took some time to complete, whatever the study of manners might involve, and before she was ready Mrs. Tucker had opened the door to a couple of visitors so 178 A CONSULTATION. '73 ap^reeable to her mind, that strength and cheerful- ness immediately returned. 'John Halifax, I do declare!' she cried, hold- ing up her hands in surprise as she recognised her roughish-looking, hobbledehoy visitor of a few weeks back, carefully dressed and nicely brushed, shoe-blacked and hair-oiled, for an important call. Jock laughed, blushed, and nodded, but seemed to trust entirely to the housekeeper's penetration to discover his errand. *And what pretty little missy may this be?' continued Mrs. Tucker, turning to little Kffie, who stood quietly beside her big protector on the doorstep, just shyly lifting her sweet, sunless eyes to where the kindly voice was coming from. ' It's the wee blin* lassie I was tellin' ye aboot,* said Jock bashfully. *But yc'll maybe no mind ? ' 'Yes; indeed, I do, John Halifax, and a dear little thing she is too. But come away in, both of you, to my parlour, and tell me all about it. Has her mother sent her over here to see my precious master, or what ? Eh } Ar 1 'ave you got a 'alf-'oliday, John, for you ain't often walkin* about like a gentleman at this time o' day, I reckon, otherwise?' * Ma faigs, it's no jist a holiday,' answered Jock as he followed with Effie into the housekeeper's room, and half reluctantly drawing from his pocket % jC 74 JOCK IIALLIDA Y. the right hand which had previously been hidden there. It was partially bandaged, but the marks of a terrible burn were easily visible beyond the straps. 'Why, you 'ave burnt yourself sadly! And 'ow did it 'appen .''* * It was a bit fire in oor bakehoo^e yestreen,* explained Jock. 'An' I caught the lowe some gait whan we was pitten't oot,' alluding in these very moderate terms to a conflagration which had agitated the West Bow from its summit to its 'Dear, dear!' exclaimed the housekeeper. 'Did I ever ! No wonder you're hoff work for to-day, young man, an' will be, I dessay, for a week yet. And you must 'ave felt it terrible.?' * No verra bad,' said Jock stoically. * An' 'deed I cudna help feelin' a kind o' gled o't for the sake o' an aff day, though I canna afford mony o' them the noo. But the maisier was rael kind, an' said it wadna mak nae difference, aifter me helpin' to put oot the flames like.' Jock added the last sentence modestly, in a kind of apologetic tone. Effie was being regaled with a huge piece of cake meanwhile, and a big orange lay in her lap to be carried home afterwards. So she was quite happy and content, while her guardian let Mrs. Tucker into the history of this little expedition. A CONSULTATION. 175 'And now then, John Halifax,' said that lady at last, when all had been told, even to the matter of the brass candlesticks and Lady Dacres' muni- ficent payment, — ' now then, you want to see my master, and you shall see him as soon ?.s that young curate goes out. He's 'ad such a time of it try in* to get heye-glasses to suit 'im. If he's been *ere once it's ten times, I believe ; and nothin' but conceit in my hestimation. There he goes now, and 'e'U be ten minutes certain afore the 'all mirror a-brushin' of 'is »viskers an' adjustin' of 'is 'at.' Mrs. Tucker hurried off to attend on this depart- ing visitor, and returning shortly, requested Jock and little Effie to follow her. They did so, and were soon ushered into a handsome room, quite shady and softly carpeted, in which Jock's spirits rather threatened to forsake him, and Effie began to cry. * Dinna greet, Effie,' whispered Jock, feeling the necessity of keeping up appearances with her, — * dinna greet. He's no gaun to eat ye up like the wolf in Red Ridin' Hood.' And Jock tried a laugh, but it seemed to die away among the velvet curtains and the luxurious furniture. It was an unfortunate illustration. Effie, naturally a most imaginative child, at once recalled the scene in that sad drama, and felt persuaded that she was the very heroine in question. She sobbed more bitterly than ever, and Juck v;as in despair. 176 JOCK HALLWAY. A moment later, however, the poor little blind child was lifted gently in a pair of strong arms, and a big hand smoothed away the tangled hair very ten- derly from her eyes and brow, while a rich, low voice, soft as a woman's, asked what she was crying for. 'The wolf, the wolf,' sobbed poor Effic, strug- gling to get away from this unknown monster. * Hoots, -havers, Effie,* remonstrated Jock, quite ashamed of this absurd opening of the interview, which he had determined should be at least full of due ceremony and decorum. * Dinna speak like a fule that gait ; there's nae wolfs here, ye ken. They're a' in the story-books.* But Dr. Philip Randal motioned him to be quiet, and sat himself down with Effie on his knee in a large arm-chair by the window. •The wolf?' he asked, 'the one that met little Red Riding Hood long ago.? Ah! but don't you know the end of that story i* — how it all turned out to be a mistake, and the wolf didn't hurt her at all, at all, but just curled himself up at her feet and fell fast asleep, while she watched him and played with his long brown hair, so thick, and soft, and warm, just like this/ he added, making the child's little hand rub over his own thick, bushy beard of beautitul, tawny hair. * Didn't you ever hear that before ? ' Whether it was the musical voice or the gentle blind , and a :y ten- 1 voice, for. Strug- , quite erview, ist full speak ere, ye to be is knee it little don't it all didn't self up atched air, so added, is own hair. gentle A CONSULTATION. 177 touch that did it, one way or another Effie's fears were suddenly arrested and her spirit soothed. Her sobs ceased, and she sat quite still and content on the strange doctor's knee, listening wiih eager interest to this new development of an old story, her large lustrous eyes fixed on the face she could not see. * That is right, that is right ! * said the doctor softly to himself as he wheeled her imperceptibly more towards the light, and deftly arranged some lenses and instruments on the table by his side. ' And so you never heard that about the poor dear old wolf before } ' he continued. ' No ! Well, you know, it is quite a common story in a nice country far away, where I have come from, and the little girls and boys there are not afraid to meet that wolf. If they met him, they would only go and speak frankly to him, and stroke his long brown beard.' Little Effie laughed softly, and of her own accord touched the good doctor's own beard as he had made her do before. He laughed too. It was evidently established as quite a little joke between them. * So you are little Red Riding Hood and I am the wolf,' he said, ' and we have a great deal to say to each other. Firsi you will tell me your name — your other name, you know. Then I may tell you more about the good-iiatured old wolf and his little friends.* Effie told him her name, and her age, and many other pieces of information, such as that her father M 178 JOCK HALLIDA V. was lying ill in the hospital, and that hei mother had to sew all day long, and sometimes all night too, to buy meal for the porridge and milk to sup along with it. She also informed him that little Willie liked his porridge * fine,' as she expressed it, but that she herself didn't care x^or * them ' very much. Also how this was Jock who had brought her here, — Jock Halliday, who lived next door, and who was so kind to her always, more particularly in bringing home cookies and 'bakes ' sometimes for her tea ; for Jock was learning to be a baker, and was to have a grand shop of his own some day, which she was to keep for him while he baked the bread and carried it home. * Hoots, havers, Effie ! ' muttered the hero in ques- tion several times under his breath, for he was thoroughly ashamed of Effie's garrulity, and very much afraf-d that the doctor would be angry. The doctor, however, was not losing time during this interesting discourse. He had managed to examine thoroughly the bright, beautiful eyes that were always raised to his own face, ready to catch his lightest word. It would have been impossible for any stranger to have guessed that Effie did not see her new friend. Dr. Philip had at once perceived that it was a very ^:o .-"Har case, and one of immense interest from a professio ij] poir.c of view. Presently he turned to Jock, vho .-il^l ,:>,oou a little behind him, twisting his 'boniitt ' jivously in his .lands, and A CONSULTATION. 179 00, to p; with liked lat she so how —Jock ;o kind home jr Jock L grand :eep for home. in ques- he was d very during iged to es that atchhis ible for not see lerceived mmense resently ind him, ds, and trying to think how the *gowd bit* might be most respectfully offered. * So you are only a neighbour, my good fellow ? * said Dr. Philip ; * not her brother, as I supposed. I am afraid you won't be able to tell me much about her ; how the blindness came on, and so forth. No ; I must see her parents before I can say anything definite. You may tell her mother tliat I shall louk in some day. I won't ask her to come over lierc, as she is so overworked at present. Give me the right address, and then you and Effie may go for the present. Good-bye, little Red Riding Hood ! You must keep a good look-out for the big brown wolf, you know — won't you ? ' Jock wrote down Mrs. Bruco's address clearly and carefully on a slip of paper which tlie doctor handed to him. Then he felt that the tug of war had come. He slipped the sovereign from his waistcoat pocket, and laid it on the paper. Then shutting his eyes, as if he were about to set off some dangerous ex- plosive, he shoved them both towards Dr. Randal, saying hurriedly : 'This is the address, sir; an' I was to gie ye this tae, an' to speir gin it was aneuch.' The doctor stared at this unexpected speech, also at the gold piece, whose history he so little knew. *T/iis?' he said slowly. ' Oh, no ! not to-day at least. Let the poor woman keep it at present for I So JOCK HALLWAY. necessary expenses. Let me see. You are quite tc be trusted with it, I suppose.-** The doctor spoke rather sharply this time, and Jock's face coloured deeply at the implied suspicion. Poor Jock ! It was hard to be suspected of any design to 'steal what was his own, or, at least, what lie had ?o generously given away. But the flush of injured irnocence and that of conscious guilt are not always to be distinguished from each other, and this time Dr. Philip Randal misinterpreted the signal. ' Give me the fee,' he said coldly. * I shall return it myself. It is more correct to do so under any circumstances.* Angry words rose to Jock's lips, the angriest he had ever felt tempted to utter. It required all his heroism — far more than it had taken for the be- stowal of the money — to keep them from being spoken, but he remembered what issue was at stake. Could he run the risk of offending this wonderful doctor, and so ruining any chance there was of Effie's sight being restored ? No, indeed, he could noi; ! Taking little Effie's hand in his, he just managed to make some sort of bow, and hurriedly withdrew. He did not even stay to speak a word or two with his friend Mrs. Tucker, who thought it very rude of him, and wound up a discourse on the subject to Martha by saying, * Them Scotch 'as no more manners than the pigs, I do declare.' CHAPTER XXI. MORNING CALLERS. T was not long before Dr. Philip Randal Mp\^: fOx found his way to the poor little garret !>;^4r«:^ where Effie I^ruce sat singing to herself in the sunshine. After some conversation with her mother, and learning all the particulars he wanted regarding Effie's earliest days, the doctor laid the rejected fee quietly in her hand, thanking her for it, but saying he would rather that it purchased some little comforts for herself and children during so trying a time as her husband's long illness must involve. Great was his surprise when Mrs. Bruce assured him that he must be under some strange mistake, for she had never sent him any such pay- ment, which indeed it was quite out of her power even to think of in present circumstances. In \ain Dr. Philip pulled his bushy beard and moustache, trying to recall the interview with that rough huJ who brought little Effie. He could not see liovv he could by any possibility be mi-^takeii. 18\ I 182 JOCK HALLIDA V. 'Why, I am quite certain the fellow brought it-— from you — said he was told to give it to me. Just think again ! Haven't you forgotten about it your- self some way or other ? * Agnes Bruce shook her head sadly. She was by no means likely to forget a coin like that. Much more likely, she thought it was, that the doctor, who had so many of them passing through his hands every day, should make some little mistake about it. She thanked him most gratefully, but could not for a moment think of accepting what was so clearly not h,' r ov;n. While they both stood perplexed, a light step was heard on the threshold, a light tap at the door, and then, without further parley, a bright sweet face looked in — a face that coloured . ond'^'^rfully when '.t first caught sight of the other visitor. Dr. Philip, too, on his part started visibly as he recognised Alice Glendinninc: ! * You here ! ' she was the first to say, looking up with a shy glance of glad surprise. 'And yon!' he returned with a thrill of pleasure in his tone. It was a long, lingering clasp with which he retained the little gloved hand in his own ; and even Agnes Bruce, absorbed as she was with her own concerns, could easily perceive that these two were somcthin'j: more to each other than mere acquaintances. MORNING CALLERS. I S3 This new visitor rather prolonc^ed the doctor's stay ; for, of course, the whole story of Kffie having been taken over to consuii him, under the guardian- ship of Jock Halliday, had to be i;one through; and then incidental reference was naturally made to the mysterious sovereign, which Dr. Philip still declared must have been sent to him by Mrs. Bruce. *No me! no me!' exclaimed Agnes Bruce for about the twentieth time. 'An' I canna think whaur that laddie could ever get the lend o' sic a thing at a time like this, when his folk hae jist eneuch to dae to mak ends meet* Then Alice Glendinning surprised everybody still more by suddenly clapping her hands as if with joy, and crying out, * Oh ! I know, I know! Yes; I am sure I know all about it.' * I tJiocJit it maun be frae your hoose, Miss Ailicc,* cried Agnes Bruce ; ' it could be frae nac ithcr ! ' * No, no ; it wasn't from us at all ! It was poor Jock's own property. I saw him get it. I know h:)W he gained it! And he was so anxious to kccj) it \ secret for a little w^iile, he said. So I promised not to tell ! But now surely one may ! ' And then she proceeded to tell her astonished listeners all about the old brass candlesticks, and Jock's dismay, and Lady Dacres* mania for 'Queen Anne,' and her lavish way of paying for everything, and so on. * But there is Jock himself, I declare,' li ^ 184 JOCK II ALL! DAY. she added at the end of licr narrative, ' whistling and rackctinfT on the stair as usual ! Home for his dinner, I daresay ; just let me bring him in and question him.* Jock was collared and broucjht in accord ing^ly, by Miss Glendinning's own fair hands, and there he stood abashed and confounded in the presence of the company, with never a word to say for himself either one way 01 another. His mother, too, had added herself to the j^roup in an easy, friendly manner, though uninvited ; for, as she remarked : * I cudna think nae ither but ma laddie was in some mischeef again, seein' him brocht up afore this stranger gentleman an' a'. 'Deed, it gaed me a turn, I can tell ye ; for though he's an awfu' heap sobered doon since Miss Ailice got a haud o' him, he's a gey throughither kin' o' lad still, oor Jock.' Mrs. Halliday's mind, however, as well as every- body else's, was soon set at rest on this important subject, especially when Dr. Philip Randal shook Jock warmly by the hand, expressing in the hand- somest manner his i^rcat regret for havinc^ mistaken so fine a fellow and thought him unworthv of con- fidence. He begged Jock's pardon so heartily, that again our hero felt confused and abashed beyond measure, and at last fairly took refuge in flight. Dr. Philip had managed to slip the aforesaid sovereign once more into the lad's reluctant hand, and Jock MORNING CALLERS, i8. rei^n found that after all some other destination niu.st yet be found for it. As to little Effic's case, the doctor had previously said he would attend to it in time, but that for a long while no steps of any kind could be taken. Only she was to be fed up and strengthened as much as possible, and he did not doubt but that, at some far distant day, the blessing of sight might be restored to her. How thankful they all felt; Jock, not least of all, feeling that the attempt that had cost him so much time and thought and consideration had not after all been in vain. And Dr. Philip escorted Miss Glendinning home that day. It was an exceedingly busy time of day with him ju^t then, to be sure ; but, as he observed, George Square was so very near — hardly a step out of his way. So it might be, perhaps ; and yet that hardly accounted for their extending the walk so far as to go round by Bruntsfield Links and St. Catherine's Convent, as they are said to have done ! It is known, however, that the conversation was a particularly interesting one to both parties, leading before long to very important results. Lut we must not anticipate quite so far as yet. Before that summer was fairly over, Willie Bruce came home from his long sojourn in the Infirmary. He returned a sadder but a wiser man — broken in health, enfeebled in spirits, but very penitent for the .v*^.. ^r^% IMAGE EVALUATrON TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1^ ISO 1^ 1^ 1^ 1^ IM 6" i4fi IIIIIM 1.8 1-25 111.4 111.6 V] v^ 7] y /^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. M580 (716) 872-4503 4r w o^ % JVII 1 86 JOCK HALLWAY, fti ^iiii' past, and full of earnest resolves for the future And he came home not to the poor empty garret and the companionship of Tarn Lowrie and his loquacious spouse, but to a neat little cottage with a garden about it in the Grange Loan, which the Largo friends had clubbed together to hire for his wife and children. There Willie began his new and better days, or rather went back to the old pure and simple life he had led before his miserable falling ofC There Effie grew fat, and strong, and rosy, and played about most merrily with her little brother among the daffodils and daisies. There Agnes Bruce became a busy and much-wanted laundress, taking in as much work as she could well accomplish, and sending home the whitest and smoothest of linens by the careful hands of her little blind girl. For Effie could do all that, and more than that ! And was not the day coming, at thought of which her little heart beat high, when the bright eyes would look in wonder, and love, and gratitude at the beautiful world around her — at the roses in the garden, at the bird > upon the green branches.^ Nay, more ! at the faces of father and mother, brother and friends, and surely— oh I surely— at *00R Jock'sT CHAPTER XXir. CRISIS AND CONCLUSION. Time passed on with all our Edinburgh friends, as it always does and always must do — very slowly in the eyes of some, very quickly in the eyes of others, but surely and silently, all tlie same, bringing changes of some sort to everybody. It brought, for one thing, a fair young bride to the great, lonely house in Melville Street, where Mrs. Tucker had once received Jock Halliday and little Effie. That good old lady had retired, on a comfortable pension, to a small flat in the South Side, where Jock sometimes took tea with her, having long ago explained his abrupt departure on that eventful evening when she had declared * the Scotch had no more manners than pigs had.* INFIRMARY TOWER. m 188 /OCA' HALLIDA K P Martha still remained in the service of Dr. Phih'p Randal, not having found a young man suited to her mind, and being, perhaps, discouraged by Mrs. Tucker's frequently expressed views as to that faith- less sex. When Mr. Towie first learned that Alice Glen- dinning's destiny was fixed, he felt, to use his own graphic words, * utterly floored.' But, after a time of mental depression such as he had never before experienced, that Mang-shankit youth,' as Mrs. Lowrie termed him, buckled on his armour once more, and went forth, like the knights of old, to do battle in a glorious cause. And it was not in vain that he tore up the long, winding stairs — poked through the miry, miserable closes — listened to the stories of the old, and the troubles of the middle- aged, and the difficulties of all. His own sorrow grew not less real, but more easy to bear — he hardly knew how or why. And by and by he was able to reflect that * bright particular stars ' were not in the habit of descending to adorn the common earth, but generally kept aloft somewhere pretty high above his head ! And when the time came he was even able to dance at Alice Glendinning's wedding — a feat which he once thought would have killed him ; and also to take comfort in the thought that Patricia, the genius of the family, was 'really a first-rate sort of girl. CRISIS AND CONCLUSION. 189 Time, the great healer, was to do still more for Mr. Towie. It was to bring him the snug little manse of Crumlauchy, and to set him considering whether genius might not be tempted to try that green retreat. But again we are going too fast. Let us rather look back at some other changes that have occurred in the Grassmarket and its environs. Mr. Braid the baker, having retired from his old shop in the West Bow — after turning a considerable penny in it — there appeared a new name on the sign-board, nicely painted in blue and gold. The windows were bright — the loaves fresh and well- coloured. The new baker stood laughing in fr )nt of his premises one bright May morning ; for his good old mother, well dressed and comfortable-looking, had been quite overjoyed at the sight of the sign- board, and cried out enthusiastically, clapping hef hands at the same time, * W eel dune y Oor Jock !* And Effie ? It was in a carefully-darkened room in the old Infirmary of Edinburgh that some per- sons were assembled one afternoon, anxiously wait- ing the result of a difficult and uncertain operation. A very young girl lay quiet and motionless on the white-covered couch, which had been to her one of pain and agony, in spite of all the appliances known to modern science. It had been over for some days, but the eyes were m 190 /oca: HALLWAY. ■i ■ r ; closely bandaged still. Now, at long last, the sur- geon's skilful and gentle hand was to remove that bandage and discover — what ? Was it that the soft sunlight of God's fair world fell now upon the long -closed eyes ? That the better and sweeter light of loving looks and friendly faces might dawn upon them as these had never done before ? Or would it be that the darkness of life- long night had settled once more hopelessly and for ever over those beautiful but shrouded orbs ? Who could tell ? It was an anxious moment. Willie Bruce and his wife stood near the bed, hand clasped in hand, trying to think they were prepared for the worst. There was a young man sitting nearer still, with head bent upon his hands, too much agitated even to look up. It was Jock Halliday. After a few moments of breathless suspense, Dr. Philip Randal touched this youth and gently motioned him to advance. He did so, and bent his face down towards the white face upon the scarcely whiter pillows. There was no motion, no sign, no glance of recognition. Surely their hope had been in vain I Dr. Philip looked restlessly at his watch, felt the pulse of his patient, then raised a warning finger. Effie Bruce's sweet blue eyes looked up as they had CRISIS AND CONCL USION. 191 never done since her unconscious infancy, and her lips murmured softly, ^ Jock ! is it you f^ Had he ever done anything — sacrificed anything for her sake ? It was all made up to him in that moment a thousand and a thousand fold ! Poor little Effie ! And yet thrice happy too ! Among other strange things in her lot this was surely the strangest, that perhaps alone of woman- kind since the days of Eden, her first conscious glance, like that of Mother Eve herself, fell on the face of him who was to be her partner through all the chequered scenes of life. For, farther away in the far distance of time than even the snug manse of Crumlauchy and Mr. Towie's happiness, there rises before us the vision of one well-ordered home, where Effie, grown a sweet and comely matron, duly pre- sides, her bright eyes quick to discern the smallest thorn in the path of husband or children, her skilful hands prompt to remove it. And should she ever be asked what made her home so bright, her lot so happy, those shining eyes would grow dim for a moment, and the ready answer would be, * Jock^ Oor Jock!' We must leave now those friends of old Edinburgh days, with whom we have companied for a little while. Already they have gone from our sight. Tarn Lowrie and his worthy spouse ; Jean Campbell, 193 JOCK HALLIDA Y. Lucky Law, and many others have vanished some- where and somehow in the ceaseless kaleidoscope of human life, only the one central figure of our little story clearly remaining. I have called him a hero. Is the word too grand, the idea too ridiculous? He was only a baker's boy ; only a 'prentice lad ; only a common working man. Yet he made many homes better and happier by his efforts and his example. He helped the helpless, cheered the faint-hearted, rescued the drunkard from his miserable fate. He cared for others more than for himself. That is all. Other heroes have done greater things than these, and yet some of them have little recked to leave burning homesteads and bleeding victims and broken hearts behind them, as they marched proudly on to win the laurel and bind it round their own ambitious brows! 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