TODDIE 0T CMJF, M**AWY. 10* \ : A\ TODDIE THE ROMANCE OF A WOMAN HATER AUTHOR OF FORBIDDEN GKOUND, ETC., ETC. FRONTISPIECE BY R. G. VOSBURGH NEW YORK THE CENTURY CO. 1911 Copyright, 1911, by THE CENTURY Co. Published September, 1911 TODDIE TODDIE CHAPTER I HAVE you ever stood in the rain and the dark- ness, fearfully anticipating a cook, when every inch of your person yearned for a familiar cor- ner in a hopelessly distant bar? If you have then you can sympathize with Toddie. As Toddie stood there waiting for his knock to be answered and more than half inclined to run away, the little caddie recalled his master's words : " Go round to the kitchen, Toddie, dry yourself at the fire, and Devina will give you tea." The Major had meant kindly no doubt, but he had been prompted thereto by his companion. Why had she joined them? It was all the fault of the mist. Had she not lost her way they would still have been practising approach shots untroubled by women. And now his master had been beguiled in at the front door, and he, Toddie, had been per- emptorily ordered to the back, lured by the same in- sidious bait warmth and tea. 3 TODDIE A not unwelcome proposal to wet and thirsty men, it might be supposed; but, whatever the master's feelings upon the subject, the caddie at all events viewed it with dark suspicion from which the reader may infer that Toddie was that unnatural and misguided creature, a woman hater. He knocked again, but barely had his wet and be- numbed knuckles come into contact with the door than the latter opened unexpectedly. A fierce light leaped out, a disconcerting brightness that appeared to take an inhuman pleasure in drawing attention to his battered cap, his grimy muffler, his out-at-elbows jacket, his frayed and sodden trousers, and his wet and anxious face. Within, but peering outwards through the nar- now slit, was a female in black, speechless, forbid- ding. Toddie could see her cap. His courage fled. Wetting his lips with his tongue, he stared help- lessly at the apparition. His brain, working uncon- sciously along old and professional grooves, searched for anything likely to offer assistance. " Be up," suggested itself, but was instantly and indignantly repudiated. Be up, indeed; he was too near her as it was! " Come in," she said. He hesitated. " Come in," she repeated. As she spoke, she opened the door slowly and grudgingly. TODDIE Once inside, his eyes blinked weakly at the cheery fire, at the spotless table, at the dresser with its rows of winking plates, and at the face of Devina. The last mentioned swept all else from his mind. To use his own words whispered later in husky confidence to Bob " It just gripped ye. Man, Bob, it just put the fear o' death on ye." Yet it was by no means an unpleasant countenance, for the dark eyes were more indicative of sadness than austerity, and the mouth, if stern, had been known to soften on occasions to a very tender smile. For the moment, however, its expression was far from reassuring; and, truth to tell, had Toddie been a recently imported cannibal, and had Devina been requested to give him tea, she could not have under- taken the task with more unfeigned reluctance. " What a mess 1 " she ejaculated with high disap- probation, and not without reason, for a pool of con- siderable dimensions was rapidly transforming Tod- die into an island. " I canna help it," said the culprit sulkily. " Here stand still, till I get a cloth to ye." She was back in a moment. Any one with half an eye could see that she was a born worker. In a twinkling Toddie stood upon dry ground. " Take off yer boots," was her next remark. Toddie frowned, opened his mouth to refuse, then 5 TODDIE mechanically, as one under an evil spell, began to fumble at the knots. Ruthlessly exposed, the holes in his socks protested against the indignity. Grimly Devina surveyed her guest. Of unusual height, she looked down upon him from an altitude that overawed him. Her handsome face still ex- pressed disapproval. " Give me yer coat," she commanded. " Bob," said Toddie later, with awful solemnity, " Bob, ye won't believe me, an' I 'm not blamin' ye, but it 's God's truth the woman took the verra coat off ma back ; an' I was in sair fear she would ask for ma breeks too." Not till the dripping garment had been hung up to dry, and a semi-clad and bewildered Toddie had been planted close to the fire, did the enemy turn her attention to the rites of hospitality. The expedi- tious way that tea made its appearance was not the least among the wonders of the night. " Two lumps ? " questioned Devina severely. " Three," muttered Toddie. He took the cup from her and nervously stirred the contents with the handle of the butter-knife, till, encountering her eye, he hastily substituted a spoon. The warmth of tea, combined with the heat of the fire, thawed the cold out of his joints. Yet physical 6 TODDIE well-being failed to counteract mental anxiety. He must be on his guard, he told himself, for you never could tell what a woman would be at next. " Black," he criticized, stealing furtive glances at his hostess. " How comes it she 's wearin' black on a week-day ? Maybe somebody 's dead? " Her neatness and clean- ness made him vaguely uncomfortable. And as for the genteel way she munched her toast ! " Weel, there was nae word for it." Her figure, too, made him ill at ease. Not it alone, but the masses of dark hair coiled behind her shapely head, the turn of her neck when she faced the fire, even the way she poured out tea all were alarmingly feminine. " What 's your name ? " she asked abruptly. At the answer she actually laughed. It was won- derful how a laugh became her. " Toddie? " she repeated. " That 's a drink ! " " Ye may say that, Devina," he guffawed, under the influence of this stimulating idea. Swiftly her face darkened. "Who gave you permeesion to call me Devina?" she demanded. Without waiting for an answer, she swept on: " Ma name 's Miss Greig, as I would have ye know ; and I allow no man to miscall me." The awkward silence that ensued was broken only by the fire. It was marvelous how it managed to re- tain its heat. 7 TODDIE Still suffering from extreme nervousness Toddie had thoughts of spitting, but refrained. Devina likewise was far from being herself; for, producing a work-basket with an assumption of indifference, she began to inspect an unfinished garment, then, suddenly conscious of the presence of a man, ban- ished it in confusion. For a while they both sat quite still and if the truth were known, each longed for the other to be gone. Gradually Toddie's thoughts wandered to the subject that preoccupied his mind his master, now presumably conducting a similar campaign in the drawing-room. Were they not allies, single men, confronting the same peril? Indeed had it not been for this conviction, and the belief that by sharing his master's danger he was to some extent supporting him, Toddie would have been by no means so easily beguiled into a kitchen. Regarding his employer's ultimate safety he felt no anxiety. Even the Major's audible pleasure when meeting the lady in the mist, his altered voice, his words, betraying a refinement of language unknown to golf, his alacrity in accompanying her had failed to alarm him, for he attributed all to the artificial polish of the upper classes. Did he not know the Major? Had not his master eluded the toils of matrimony for forty years? Were not his days passed at golf and his evenings at the 8 TODDIE club? This visit was plainly an accident. No. There was no cause for anxiety. His attention turned to his companion. She was leaning forward, her chin sunk to the palm of her hand, her eyes fixed on the fire. An expression of somber melancholy darkened her face. "Greig?" muttered Toddie thoughtfully. "I mind the name. You '11 no' be the daughter of Geor- die Greig, him we called Skipper, drowned in the harbor a matter o' five year back? " " Aye." " I 'm sorry," he murmured, for her tone made him feel that he had stumbled unwarrantably upon a private and enduring grief. " You '11 be a caddie? " she said. " Just that." " A hard life," she mused, and for the moment her voice held unaccountable sympathy. " Oh, betwixt an' between," said Toddie, instinct- ively suspicious of all female compassion. " It 's no life for an able-bodied man," she re- sumed, with a fresh access of gruffness. " I 'd rather break stones upon the road. Ye look strong, an' ye 're not that old ; can ye no' find onythin' better to do than runnin' after a silly ball ? " Toddie rubbed his hands up and down his trouser- legs. " It 's meat and drink to me," he growled in self-defense. TODDIE " More drink than meat, I '11 be bound." A ghost of a twinkle crept into Toddie's eyes, but he banished it in an access of caution. " You '11 be a cook? " he suggested, then smiled, for he considered this adroit change of subject " awful clever." " I was, but now I 'm the maid." Toddie pursed his lips. His knowledge of maids was limited to occasional glimpses of the species seen between the bars of area railings. They had always filled him with lively apprehension. " Where where are the ithers ? " he questioned, peering round him nervously. " Ye '11 not find them there. That 's the larder. Cook 's gone to see her mither ; and Jessie 's away gallivantin'." "And you sit here alone?" " Not as a rule. I 'm generally up the stair." He stole a glance at her, and finding her gazing into the fire, was emboldened to inspect her with a fearful and furtive curiosity. " What 's the difference between a maid and a cook? " he blurted suddenly. "Are you for askin' riddles?" she inquired scath- ingly. " No, no ; I thought " "Weel, can ye no' speak? What did you think? " 10 TODDIE " I thought all women were maids till till they married." She cast a look of unutterable contempt at his in- nocent and serious countenance, then turned away. " Did ye never hear tell o' a lady's maid? " she asked abruptly. Toddie pondered, then brightened. " I 've heard o' an auld maid," he said hopefully. What induced the woman to ejaculate " Impi- dence ! " Toddie could never understand. The inci- dent, though trivial, added to his nervousness. " What d' ye come here for, wastin' my time? " she demanded, after a lengthy pause. No intentional rudeness lurked in the interrogation. Devina spoke in all simplicity, as one stating a fact. " I was told to come," he answered with resigna- tion. "Who told ye?" " The Major and her." "Miss Charity?" " Aye." Devina's face became thoughtful. " She told me, too. I wonder at her," she said slowly. " And I wonder at him," pronounced Toddie with decision. Then little by little they drifted into desultory conversation prompted thereto by a melancholy ac- 11 TODDIE ceptation of the inevitable rather than by motives of sociability. " Ah, but he 's a fine schollard," cried Toddie, launching complacently upon a topic dear to his heart. " It 's just amazin' how much he knows. Book learnin' 's a queer thing." Here he passed a thoughtful hand over his untidy hair. " I some- times think it depends on the size o' a man's head. A grand player, too ; we won the Jubilee Vase the- gither, so we did. An' kind see here " he reached out for his boots, " these were his once London made, no less. A wee thing worn in the soles but ah 1 there 's a bonnie pair of uppers for ye!" He broke off; for, despite his genuine and whole- hearted enthusiasm, he was disconcerted by this grim and silent woman who appeared to look through and through him with her somber, observant eyes. She plainly took no interest in boots. She did not even seem to see them ! This amazing want of apprecia- tion, casting as it did an aspersion upon the former property of his master, roused Toddie into mild re- sentment. With a desire to impress her at all costs, he continued: " Him an' me has walked the links thegither five year come Martinmas, wet or fine, on or off, aye, ever since he was minded to give heathen countries the go-by and live respectable in his native land. I 12 TODDIE tell ye, he 's rich." He leaned over the table to- wards her, his eyes big with importance. " Oh, I 've seen his room, two rooms, no less. Ye dinna seem partial to boots, but his neckties I Weel, I wish ye could see them; ye just couldna help being stag- gered." " I 'm not carin'." Toddie flushed. The deep, contemptuous voice broke rudely upon his paean of praise. It contin- ued: "What do I care for yer Major? What's he come here for; answer me that, you that brought him?" " Me I Me that brought him ! " " Aye, you. Did he not come here with you the day? An' the ither days, if ye didna bring him ye knew fine where he was." " Ither days! " he ejaculated in sudden consterna- tion. " Here! I didna know." " Weel, ye should ha' known, and that 's as bad. D' ye hear? " Her voice rang loud and hard. " I mistrust it." He could only stare at her, speechless. " An' as for yer flatterin' tongue, I dinna believe a word ye 're sayin'. You men are all alike. / know ! Ye tell lies about each other as easy as winkin'. Kind, is he ! Let him keep his kindness out of our drawing-room. And more ye think be- 13 TODDIE cause I say little I canna see ! Ye 're wrong. I see fine. Major, say you! What's he anyway com- pared to my Miss Charity ? Him!" She snapped her fingers in contempt. " Not fit to clean her boots. I tell ye once for all there 's not a finer dressed leddy in the town, no, nor a better, nor a bonnier, nor a kinder in all Scotland." " I 'm not denyin' it ! " She gave vent to a short and scornful laugh. " Denyin' it ! I should think not indeed ! Drink- ing her good two-shilling tea and denyin' it! Ma word ! I 'd have ye out of her kitchen in a minute." Before Toddie could recover, a peculiar and nasal sound made itself heard. His face brightened. " What 's that? " said Devina suspiciously. " Was that you? " "Na. That's Bob." "Who?" " Just Bob. He 's come for me. I '11 have to go. Ye see Bob will nose me oot o' ony house in the town. There's not anither dog in St. Andrews to beat him at smells. Here, keep quiet. I 'm comin'." When his boot 5 were on he looked at her doubt- fully. She returned his look with a steady stare, not bold, but full of a gloomy and brooding antagonism. Ha faced her for a moment, breathed hard like a man who would fain speak but is at a loss for words, 14 TODDIE then bidding her good night, marched hastily to the door. As she remained seated by the fire she heard frantic yelps of delight mingling with : " Doon, Bob, ye auld deevil ! That 's no way to behave. Keep doon, ye wee rascal ! Man, but ye 're wet ! Come on." Then the door closed and she was left alone. CHAPTER II A DAY of rain steady, hopeless rain fall- ing from a sky that domed land and sea like a vast leaden extinguisher. A dun yellow light, like the dawn of some unearthly day, replaced the dark- ness of night with a wan and sinister gloom through which all things the club-house, the two big ho- tels, the rows of gray houses, the deserted links and the sea, heaving under a northerly swell, showed as so many misty phantoms. Water everywhere. It dripped from the roofs, it gushed down the gutters, it lay in pools in every depression of the links, it sat- urated the heavy gravel opposite the club-house and squelched under the heavy boots of the hall-porter as he forsook the shelter of the porch in order to cast a gloomy eye at the weather. The big clock that decorated the wall of the club- house pointed to eight, yet despite the matutinal hour and the hopeless character of the day, several men might have been seen within the caddie shelter. It was a bare and cheerless building. The boards that composed the floor were worn and dirty. A single bench ran round the interior, the wood- 16 TODDIE work of which was polished by continual friction. An iron heat radiator stood at one end, but as it had not been lighted, its ugliness but emphasized the cheerless character of the scene. Three windows and a door, usually open, gave light to those within. Two of the former looked out on to the restricted area where the caddies were wont to march to and fro in fair weather the third commanded the club- house. A small inner opening large enough for a man's head and shoulders, communicated with the caddie-master's box. Upon the occasion in question, the air within this building was heavy with moisture, chill with wintry cold, acrid with the faint odor of decaying seaweed, and unpleasantly suggestive of musty and saturated clothing. Five men waited here for the employers who never came waited with what patience and hopefulness they could summon to their aid. One, well stricken with years, was seated on the bench. The water dripped from his threadbare coat; it glistened on his thin and wrinkled face, but he appeared unconscious of it. With knees close together, back bent nearly double, head sunk forward on his chest, and blue hands limp and pendant by his side he stared out- wards at the driving rain with an air of apathetic vacuity. Another, known as " daft Willy " stood near the door, a vacant smile on his long, expression- TODDIE less face. The other three, stout fellows enough, strolled up and down, shuffling their feet upon the sodden boards, pausing occasionally to gaze out of the streaming window-panes, to expectorate, and to mutter curses at the weather. " It 's on for the day," growled Murdock a thick-set man with a bull-neck. "And a mighty poor chance of a round for us." " Some plays in the rain," quavered the old man on the bench in a voice that belied the apparent hope- fulness of the remark. "Very few, Tarn," said a bearded giant, known as big McPhee, filling a clay pipe. " I wish I 'd stopped in ma bed. Dang these matches ; a body 's boots are that wet they winna strike at all." " There 's Mr. Macdonald," observed Murdoch. "Where?" questioned Hunter. "Aye, so it is. Ah, he '11 no' be playin' the day ; see to his mackin- tosh, it 's sittin' by the club fire he '11 be after." " A fire 's a fine thing," said Tarn wistfully, but no one paid him attention. For some time there was a mournful silence. McPhee, who had at last man- aged to light his pipe, puffed energetically. The reek of the coarse tobacco permeated the damp chilly air, floated through the shelter and found its way through the open door. The drip of the rain kept up a monotonous accompaniment to the faint and far-off moaning of the sea. The old man, his eyes 18 TODDIE closed, relapsed into a state of somnolent indiffer- ence. The half-witted lad continued to smile va- cantly at his hands. In his open mouth with its weak pendulous lips the few discolored teeth stood out like fragments. " Here 's Toddie," cried Murdoch suddenly. He was staring through the streaming window-pane, and spoke in the voice of one who anticipates amuse- ment. " Aye, so it is," corroborated McPhee, looking over his companion's shoulder. " What the deevil brings him out on a day like this? That Major o' his is terrible afeared o' water. Says he to Colonel Fife, the ither day, ' I change ma shirt every time I sweat.' " The laughter with which this statement was re- ceived was interrupted by the entrance of Toddie. " Weel, lads, glad to see ye sae merry," he said, beaming upon the company. Under his influence they all brightened up, and even Tarn overcame his predisposition to exist entirely in the past. " Ye 're no' for playin' the day, are ye? " ques- tioned Murdoch. " Weel," said Toddie, ringing the moisture from his cap, " I came doon to see, but they tell me the Major's no' in the club yet. Ah, he's wise. What a rain ! There will be a lot o' casual water after this, I'm thinkin'." 19 TODDIE " What 's this I hear aboot ye, Toddie? " said Mc- Phee with a wink to the others. "Eh?" " They tell me ye took yer tea wi* a woman the ither night." Toddie's cheerful face darkened. His companions did not share his despondency, for a smile appeared on every face. Even Tarn's bleared eyes twinkled, and as for Daft Willy, his large mouth expanded so far that it appeared doubtful if it would ever again resume its normal proportions. " It 's true, then ? " chuckled Murdoch. "Aye," said Toddie reluctantly. "It's a fact; though there 's naethin' to grin at. Oh, it wasna ma idea. What was I to dae when I was telt to go in? Me that cold and wet, ye could ha' squeezed me like a sponge." " She'll be the Fords' cook ? " questioned Murdoch, smiling. " Na, she 's the maid. Did ye never hear tell o' a leddy's maid, Murdoch? I 'm surprised at ye. Oh, they 're common in big houses ; they just wash up after the leddy. Man, she was terrible genteel, and maist extr'ornar clean aye, fair lifted oot o' her station." " Did ye kiss her? " questioned Hunter with in- terest. If Toddie had been asked whether he had 20 TODDIE murdered her, he could not have looked more horri- fied. " Aye," went on Hunter, wagging his head, " I hear there 's a bonnie lassie there. The butcher's man telt me. Will that be her, think ye? " " I heard aboot the lassie too," corroborated Mur- doch. " It was Jock Aitken told me. He said after he 'd swept the chimneys he aye washed his face at the Fords' it was weel worth the trouble." " Some likes ye to kiss them quick," mused Mc- Phee in tones of tender reminiscence, " and ithers prefers ye to do it wi' wi' premeditations." "That's a powerful word," ejaculated Murdoch. " Where did you come by that, McPhee ? " " I got it f rae a professor. He said it was the way he played golf, so I kent it meant somethin' aw- ful slow." " I believe ye," agreed Hunter. " There was a cook I once kep* company with," smiled McPhee. " The woman would ha' deceived ony man withoot he was weel acquaint wi' the queer contradictious ways o' her sex. So, if Toddie here didna take advantage o' the leddy's kindness in givin' him a chance, he 's mair o' a fool than he looks." Toddie's face as he listened to these remarks was a study. It expressed the utmost incredulity and disapproval. Twice he was on the point of interrupt- 21 TODDIE ing, and no sooner had McPhee made an end of speak- ing than he burst forth. "Here!" he blurted. "That's no way to talk! Have ye no sense o' decency, o' o' respect ? Takin' away an honest woman's character; aye, behind her back, and you a man. Ye ken her weel enough. She 's Skipper's daughter. Ma word, I 'd like fine to see you take any liberties wi' her! She'd just start to sweep the floor wi' ye ; aye, and I believe she could dae it too, she 's that big." " Hello ! Hello ! " ejaculated Hunter. " What 's come over ye? I thought ye disliked women." " I canna bear them," muttered Toddie, in con- fusion. McPhee laughed good-naturedly. "Weel," he said, spitting on the floor. "Ye've a verra queer way o' showin' it. Onybody would think ye loved them all. Man, ye 've a lot to learn ! I was like you, Toddie, when I was a laddie somethin' peetyful. Respec' indeed! Ye make me laugh. Respec' yer grannie! Aye, aye, respec' is a braw word, but love 's a better. Just you mind that when ye come to be walkin' oot." Toddie's indignant repudiation of any desire or in- tention to walk out, or walk in, or walk anywhere in company with one of the opposite sex, was not re- ceived with the gravity it merited. His auditors, with the exception of old Tarn and Daft Willy, 22 TODDIE judged it an excellent and fitting opportunity for banter. Their jests, if somewhat broad and heavy, were at all events free from ill-nature, and served to beguile the tedium of the bitter winter's day. " What makes ye sae hard on the women-folk, Toddie?" inquired Murdoch curiously. " D' ye no' ken? " broke in Tarn, speaking eagerly. " Toddie had a mither." " So have I," exclaimed Daft Willy with a pleased smile. " We '11 no' speak aboot her, if ye please," said Toddie to Tarn. The old man quailed before the unusual severity in the eyes of his friend. Murmuring in incoherent apology, he retired into the grimy recesses of his green coat. " Some mithers are no' precisely suited for the job," mused McPhee. " Havers ! " growled Hunter with some heat. " That kind 's no' common." He paused, rumina- ting ; then with laborious reminiscence : " When I think o' mine it puts me in mind o' me bein' a laddie at the schule, and her and her coaxin' me to say ma bit prayers." McPhee and Murdoch, unfeignedly amazed, gazed at the besotted face of the speaker. " Damn rot ! " muttered Hunter apologetically, and avoiding their eyes. TODDIE "Aye, aye. Oh, aye. M-m, M-m," commented McPhee. Daft Willy looked from one to the other. His eyes betrayed an eagerness and intelligence which they had before lacked. Several times he moistened his pendulous lips with his tongue, then remarked with complacency: " Ma mither 's a good woman." There was an awkward silence, then Murdoch tit- tered and was secretly kicked by Toddie, for the lady in question was notorious for her lack of vir- tue. Accustomed to be the butt of the more unfeeling among his associates, this considerate silence encour- aged the half-witted lad. His smile vacant and meaningless on other occasions, a mere nervous con- traction of the facial muscles became unexpectedly luminous and even tender, the sign of a devotion so deep-rooted as to be the soil from which sprung the only purifying influence in his down-trodden life. " Aye," he said softly. " She hasna her like in all St. Andrews. I whiles peety ither chaps." Still smiling, he relapsed into silence. In the pause that ensued the patter of the rain on the roof was de- pressingly audible. " When a laddie hasna had a kind hame," quavered Tarn all at once, " it isna to be wondered at if he gets like Toddie here ; and f orby was he no' brought 24 TODDIE up by Jock Aitken him that died o' jaundice and ye all ken what sort o' a wife he had." " Tarn," said Toddie sternly. "Aye, Toddie?" " Did I give ye leave to talk o' ma private af- fairs?" "No, Toddie." " Weel, shut yer mouth." Tarn obeyed. McPhee yawned loudly, then muttered an oath. " Anither day wasted, just look at it ! It 's no' like a day at all. Nae wonder they 've got the gas lighted in the club. No use waitin'. I 'm off. The sight o' all this water makes a man thirsty. Are ye comin', lads? " Hunter and Murdoch accepted his invitation; and the three men squelched away over the saturated gravel. Daft Willy slunk off by himself. Only Tarn and Toddie were left. CHAPTER III '"1 II THAT are ye after doin'? " questioned Tarn. V V His tone betrayed the fact that he recog- nized Toddie for a born leader, and would cheerfully conform to anything he might suggest. " I thought I might ha' got a sight o' him," mur- mured Toddie, who was standing at the window. " Yer Major?" said Tarn indifferently. " Aye." " You 're awful fond o' him ? " Aye." Tarn coughed. The hoarse, rasping sounds filled the dark and dreary shelter. The spasm shook the bent figure as though with rough hands. " It beats me," he gasped. " What beats ye ? " questioned Toddie, turning. " How ony sensible caddie can care for a club member." Toddie, planted firmly on his sturdy legs, surveyed the huddled and bent figure before him with compas- sionate superiority. " D' ye no' feel whiles that ye just have to care for something ? " he asked. 26 TODDIE " No," replied Tarn after lengthy thought. " No." " Weel, I does. I tell ye, Tarn, I couldna gang through the day withoot it. It just warms me." Tarn looked up with interest. " Warms ye, Toddie? If I thought that I" " Hoots, man, I was speakin' feeguratively. That 's like a parable, ye ken. Oh, I grant ye it 's no* given to onybody to speak like that. Ye just say the wan thing and mean the ither. It 's a gift." "Aw!" ejaculated his auditor. " Aye," pursued Toddie, serious, but conscious of being delicately flattered. " It warms me to care. I canna help it. If ye 've got that feelin' in yer heart it just bubbles oot. It 's a grand thing I 've got the Major and Bob. Ma word!" his voice rose with sudden and unwonted vehemence, " if I hadna found them, who kens but I might start carin' for some daft-like thing for yerself, maybe?" "Would ye, though?" cried Tarn with gratitude. " I didna say I would. I said I might. But ye never can tell the way it takes ye. There 's days T 'm awful near tempted to care for the sea and the sunshine, but, hoots, that 's weakness, Tarn. When that silly feelin' comes over me I just thinks o' the game and looks hard at the Major." " Aye, aye," murmured his companion, essaying to warm his benumbed and damp fingers by feebly 27 TODDIE rubbing them together, then with a sigh : " I wish I was mair like you, Toddie. I 've not cared for ony- body this lang while back." " For naebody, Tarn? " The old man looked up at him with dull eyes, then slowly shook his head. " Na. No' that way. I care for you, Toddie but it doesna make me ony warmer." "It's no' to be looked for, Tarn. Na, na, that would be expectin' too much o' nature." Then, with a kindly but critical glance at his friend's shivering anatomy : " It would take a terrible lot o' carin' to warm you." Tarn pondered over the situation. His thin, hag- gard face, on which the white bristles stood out like frosted stubble above a dirty soil, betrayed the difficulty its owner experienced in analyzing his feel- ings. " Ye may be right," he quavered reluctantly. " There 's no' denyin' when ye 're no' there I never thinks aboot ye. I thinks aboot maself." " That 's what keeps ye cold, Tarn." "Is that a fact? But " and Tarn gazed anx- iously up into the face of his friend " Ye 're not speakin' in parables again, are ye? " Toddie smiled. " I believe I was ! Ma wordl That 's the best of a habit, Tarn. It bides with ye. It 's not surprisin' 28 TODDIE ye find me puzzlin'- whiles I 'm bothered to find ma meanin' maself." " It 's a bad habit," pronounced Tarn, speaking with unusual conviction. Toddie caressed his chin. " Weel, I wouldna go sae far as to say that. I tell ye there 's mony a thing the Major says I canna put a meanin' to at all. But, hoots, that doesna show the meanin' is no' there. Na, na, I 've obsairved, Tarn, the cleverer ye are the mair ye hide yer meanin'. No' that ye 're ashamed o' it, but just to give folk the pleasure o' findin' it oot. A meanin' is like a lost ball, Tarn. Ye canna see it, but it 's there. Aye, and some folks canna find it, while ithers just walks straight to the place. Ye take me?" Tarn opened his mouth in admiration. " Losh ! What a man ye are, Toddie ! What a way ye have o' muddlin' things ! Ah ! " he shook a mournful head " I fear ye 're clever." " Ye think sae, Tarn? " " I do. Ither caddies can talk and I just under- stand every word they 're sayin'. But you ye take a thing an easy thing, mind ye and twid- dle it aboot, and call it a golf ball, and say it 's lost, and, by Jove, it is ! " Toddie smiled complacently. " I like fine to hear ye haverin'," continued Tarn, nodding. " It does naebody ony harm. Aye, and 29 TODDIE it takes a body's thoughts off hisself . It 's a grand thing to forget. It 's like bein' asleep, and maybe like bein' dead. But the worst o' it is, when ye stop, a body kind o' wakes up and minds the links and the rheumatics and the cold aye, that 's the worst o' it, a body 's just dragged aboot by hisself." There was a note of deep and unconscious pathos in the statement. Nor was it rendered less poignant by attendant circumstances the gloom of the win- ter's day the patter of the rain the moaning of the sea, and the pallid face and shrunken figure of the poor old derelict seen dimly in the obscurity. 30 CHAPTER IV DAVID McCLURE, then alias Toddie, was one of a type of caddie fast becoming extinct even on the classic links of St. Andrews. Another and a younger race are superseding them, a race less wedded to their employer's interests, and less mind- ful, it may be added, of the true and sporting spirit of the game. As a caddie, Toddie had been from the first an un- qualified success even as a player he had acquitted himself by no means despicably. It was not for nothing that his eye for flying, or even for stationary balls was unerring, and that his memory for lines was little short of miraculous. This proficiency stood him in good stead. Many a time when on some bitter winter's day his companions were beating their blue and unemployed hands against their sides, or tramping to and fro to keep up their circulation, casting despairing glances the while at the almost deserted club-house, Toddie as blue and unem- ployed as his neighbors would hear the little win- dow that gave light to the caddie-master's box open abruptly. 31 TODDIE The head of that individual would pop into sight with disconcerting suddenness, like a royal and an- cient jack-in-the-box released from inaction by the sum of eighteenpence his eyes ranging over his subordinates with the controlling and fateful glance of a generalissimo surveying his forces. There would ensue a moment of anxious suspense. A hush would fall upon the little assembly. Men who had been walking would become motionless men who had been talking would become dumb. Fifteen pairs of eyes would rivet themselves, pleadingly, sullenly, or resentfully according to the characters of their respective owners upon the head framed by the tiny window, and thirty ears would listen and long for the sound of their owners' names. " McClure," would bellow the caddie-master, and snap would go the closing window. A babel of voices would suddenly arise. " You again, Toddie," McPhee or Hunter would exclaim with an oath. " It 's Colonel Hardy ; he aye asks for you, Tod- die," Tarn would sigh, actuated as much it is a pleasure to record by melancholy pride in his com- rade's popularity as by any sting of personal disap- pointment; and away Toddie would stump, golf bag under his arm, followed by many an envious glance. A lonely man, Toddie occupied one small room at TODDIE No. 7 Logie's Lane. This he referred to as " Hame," and viewed it, dark and cheerless though it was, with not a little proprietary complacency. Its position in the very center of the town was a source of much pride to him. He considered it genteel, al- most aristocratic. The immediate vicinity of the town church cast upon his humble dwelling a shadow of undeniable respectability. When he visited other and less favored mortals Tarn, for instance, who lived in a rickety tenement hard by the harbor his breast swelled with complacency, which, however, he was careful to conceal when sufficiently sober to master his emotions. Nor were reasons wanting for such satisfaction. Tarn's home had its staircase all upon the outside now you could inspect the exterior of Logie's Lane for a week and discover nothing but that you were wasting your time. Then, too, Tarn's plebeian dwelling suffered from the effects of a perennial washing-day. Call when you pleased, your eyes were sure to be scandalized by the sight of the most private of garments shamelessly publish- ing to the world the sex and secrets of their wearers, contorting their limbs like so many tight-rope dancers, doubling spasmodically upon themselves as though overcome with the fantastic humor of the situation, and, in a word, behaving without the least respect for the proprieties. This, on the face of it, smacked of the slums. It was a matter of self-con- 3 aa TODDIE gratulation to Toddie that no one apparently washed in Logic's Lane. There existed some souls of the baser sort who, actuated doubtless by envy, accused Toddie of thrust- ing himself among his betters, aye, of actually living next door to a greengrocer. But it is to be noted that these detractors were the very people who with a smirk of ill-concealed importance would, when in com- pany, refer to " Oor freend in Logic's Lane." Toddie's mistrust of women was an instinct of long and steady growth. It began with his earliest recollections of his mother. Upon no consideration would he, it is true, permit any remark derogatory to her to be uttered in his hearing, and indeed owed one black eye which had rendered him disreputable for a week to his ardent championship of her im- aginative virtues but " the evil that men do lives after them," and Jessie McClure was branded by all who remembered her with the epithets of shrew and drunkard. When she died, and Toddie was freed forever from her alternate fits of violence and neglect, what wonder that he transferred his apprehension and dislike to the entire sex. It was remarked by the women of the neighborhood that for long after he had been left an orphan you could not speak to him without seeing his little elbow raised in instinctive defense a pitiable sign that told its own tale. Accustomed from infancy to look upon the dark 34 TODDIE side of family life, Toddie would, as a child, listen to the drunken quarrels of married folk which took place as sure as the Saturday night came round, and so listening drew therefrom his own immature con- clusions. " Marriage will be a sair misfortune," he had once confided to a playmate in the interval of top-spin- ning. " I canna think how the Lorrd permits it." And in his fervent prayers for like many another Scottish lad he had passed through a phase of acute religion he had been wont to wrestle with his Maker, beseeching Him to hasten the blessed time, when, according to his promise, there would be neither marriage nor giving in marriage. And yet, though shunning female society, Toddie occasionally mustered up courage to speak to old women and little girls. The former, as they sat in their doorways baiting hooks, or were encountered hobbling painfully over the cobble stones, awoke some instinct of pity, and even of tenderness. They had so few pleasures. He forgot their sex in sorrow for their infirmities. Age, by purging them of all at- tractiveness, had robbed them of all danger. There was one in especial with whom he occasionally en- joyed a chat. Something peculiarly reassuring em- anated from her presence she was so like a man. He would meet her sometimes far out among the rocks, at low tide, gathering shell-fish. When ac- 35 TODDIE costed, she would straighten herself with difficulty, and brushing aside a wisp of long white hair that in- variably impeded her vision, would look at him with rheumy, lack-luster eyes in which, however, there might be discovered a faint light of sociability. " What a sight o' cockles ! " he had once said to her, pointing to her distended apron. " Ye '11 never eat these all yerself, will ye? " " Na," she had answered, looking at the shell-fish. " There 's a man in Glasgow takes them aff me," she paused, then : " They 're awful good for worrms," she added thoughtfully. "Worrms?" " Aye, better nor onything ye '11 get oot o' a chemist's shop " she paused again, eyed him with a dawning interest, then inquired, " Have ye ony bairns? " With a muttered negative he had hastily resumed his walk. It was fully a month before he had ven- tured to speak to her again. She seemed to him a natural part of the scenery, like the brown and barren sand, did this little old woman, and he thought about neither till they were immediately under his eyes. One Sabbath afternoon Toddie was gazing at the sea, half mesmerized by its lights and movement, when he heard a feminine voice raised unexpectedly behind him. "Oh, it's you," he ejaculated with considerable TODDIE relief, as, turning, he recognized his nameless ac- quaintance. " Aye, it 's me. I kenned yer back. How are ye keepin'?" " Fine. Ye 're no' gatherin' cockles the day, are " Na. I gie them a rest on the Sabbath." "What brings ye here?" She looked at him for a moment as one in doubt, then, evidently making up her mind to trust him, whispered confidentially, *' I picks up things, bottles an' boxes, an' firewood See here ! " and opening her apron she treated him to a sight of its contents. His appreciative comments raised her spirits won- derfully. Side by side they stood and watched the waves sweeping landwards. Toddie had almost forgotten her when all at once she spoke again. " The queer things it brings ye," she murmured, indicating the sea with a nod of her draggled bonnet. " I mind once it brought me a lot o' coal good coal it was, too. And anither time it brought me a fish, aye, a black fish as long as yer arm." She paused, sighed thoughtfully, then added : " The doctor said I shouldna ha' eaten it." After a while, turning weary eyes on him, she re- marked : " You 're a lonely man." 37 TODDIE Toddie ventured to disagree. But she persisted: " Aye, but you are. The ither day I thought I seed ye wi' yer arm round a lassie's waist doon the Lade Braes, it was Ma certes ! I was that pleased. But when ye came by me I saw it was n't you at all, but a good-lookin' chap." "Is that so?" " Aye, he had a beard." " We canna all grow beards " began Toddie, then broke off in some confusion, for he saw that she possessed a promising little beard herself. " We canna all be good-lookin'," he corrected good-na- turedly. " That 's true," she assented with earnestness, lay- ing a claw-like hand on his arm. " That 's what I used to tell ma Jock when he called me a broom- handle." " Nae doot he meant it kindly," soothed Toddie, for the memory seemed to rankle. "I 'm no' sae sure," she said doubtfully. " That would be awful unlike Jock. But, hoots ! When a man 's dead ye just have to try and make the best o' him. Aye, broom-handle, it was. I never could see the likeness. Broom-handle? I wonder Ah, weel, I 've lasted him oot onyway. But you nae doot you 're just bidin' yer time." "For what?" " For marryin'." 38 TODDIE His scandalized denial failed to convince her. " Ah ! " she cried, " you 're one of the cautious ones. I see that fine. Tak' the advice o' an auld woman that 's seen a lot o' trouble, never to be led away by looks, and however much she bothers ye never call her a broom-handle." " I 'm no' for marryin' at all," cried Toddie, who had been vainly endeavoring to assert himself. " I canna abide women." She looked at him skeptically, then the ghost of a smile flitted across her wrinkles. " Hoots, never think to escape. A man 's like a cockle. He just clings to his shell, but there comes a braw day and a woman howks him oot at last. I '11 see ye courtin' yet, or ma name 's no' " He left her so abruptly that he never discovered her name. When he had gone some little distance he cautiously looked back. She had begun to poke about in the sand with the point of a very dilapidated umbrella. As for little girls, Toddie felt drawn to them in- explicably. When alone he pondered over this in- stance of the heart's depravity. Why did he not prefer little boys? It was puzzling. He sought to excuse himself in his own eyes by the reflection that all young things, even pigs, were lovable in ex- treme youth. He had his favorites among the miniature women 39 TODDIE who played in the seclusion of Logic's Lane. One frail little cripple who, aided by crutches, sought in vain to keep pace with the active legs of her robust companions, was the recipient of many a shy grimace, and even though this only on rare occasions and when no one was looking of pokes of sweeties. Her claim upon his affection was due not so much to her infirmity, as to the fact that he had serious doubts as to whether she would ever grow up to be a woman. Yes, he liked children well. Their shrill, unmu- sical voices echoing from the gray walls, filling the twilight with animation and peopling the fancy with dreams of lives yet to be lived, cheered the lonely man on his way to his solitary home. From a distance he took a genuine and whole-hearted interest in their games. Even when the worse for liquor he would take the most elaborate precautions not to upset the atom the least secure upon its legs; sometimes going the length of leaving the infant reveler in full and undisputed possession of the pavement, while he him- self tacked carefully past in the road. At times, when confronted unexpectedly by some little mite crying as though its heart would break, he would stop, bend over it, an expression of lively com- miseration imprinted upon his weather-beaten counte- nance, and there would ensue the following collo- quy: 40 TODDIE "What's like wrang wi' ye, wee lassie?" (If there existed the least doubt as to sex, Toddie in- variably took for granted that it was a lassie.) " Boo-hoo ! " " Hoots ! Ye 're no' hurt, are ye? " " Boo-hoo ! " " What the deevil ! Stop greetin'. Wipe yer face. Ye 're no' fit to look after yer bit self. What 's yer faither thinkin' aboot? Why is he no' mindin' ye, eh? " The novelty of this surprising idea would some- times have the desired effect. The noise would cease, and the look of profound astonishment would be fixed on this singular man through eyes bright with unshed tears. "Ah," Toddie would chuckle. "See to that. The verra mention o' her faither does the trick. Noo," he would shove a penny in the tiny hand, " run awa' hame to him ; nae doot he 's just wearyin' for a sight o' ye." CHAPTER V BUT it was not till five years before the opening of our story that the color of real personal feeling came to warm Toddie's lonely existence. That wonderful year brought the Major and Bob. Looking back upon his life before he had met either of these blessings Toddie marveled how he could have lived at all. To take the Major first. He had appeared one winter when business on the links was unusually slack. "Are you engaged?" he said to Toddie, singling out the little caddie by chance from his associates. "No, sir." " Well, take my clubs." Toddie obeyed. "Who's this I've got?" Toddie whispered hoarsely to McPhee as they followed their employers to the first tee. "I'm told his name's Dale, Major Dale, retired from India. What a sight o' clubs!" " Aye, but can he play? " 42 TODDIE The moment the Major gripped the shaft of his driver all doubts were dissipated. "He'll do fine," Toddie ejaculated, his honest face aglow. " See that ! A bonnie swing. Just watch that ! Ma word, there 's power for ye ! " The first hole fell to Dale in a perfect three. Toddie had difficulty in suppressing a chuckle. " Ye 've played before, Major," he observed, as side by side they followed the second faultless drive. " Once or twice," assented the Major laconically, at which Toddie forgot himself so far as to wink. The satisfaction was apparently mutual, for at the end of the afternoon round the Ma j or said : " Here 's your money. Are you engaged to-mor- row ? No ? Well I '11 take you by the month. Are you agreeable ? " By the month! No more uncertainty no more following free trippers no more struggling to make ends meet ! A pound a week ! Toddie had never felt more agreeable in his life. It was the real- ization of his rosiest dream. At least an inch higher that afternoon, he whistled himself all the way back to Logic's Lane. Neither party had cause to regret the bargain. The years that followed but cemented the satisfac- tion, until there grew up between them a feeling which, if it were not friendship, was at all events as deep and abiding. And, as in love there must be TODDIE always one who kisses and one who offers the cheek, so also in comradeship it is inevitable that one shall be first in staunchness, first in unselfish devotion. Toddie led, an easy first. It was a case of ardent hero-worship from the start. He admired the Ma- jor tremendously admired his size, his strength, his quiet manner that yet gave the observer an impression of power his golf, his learning, his halo of reputed military glory, his indifferent perform- ance on the flute. He even had an awestruck ad- miration for his employer's occasional severity. But his crowning admiration was reserved for the fact that the Major, despite fearful temptations, was still a bachelor. Naturally, as time went on, each had to make allowances. Dale, for example, had to overlook occa- sional lapses into liquor; but as no amount of drink appeared to affect Toddie's sight or judgment, it was not such a serious defect in a caddie as might be supposed. Toddie, on his part, had to excuse a testiness that showed itself only at golf, an impatience of involun- tary movement, a sudden glare of an offended eye. Once the Major had said: "Toddie, you lost me that hole." And Toddie, falsely accused, had lain awake thinking of it for a week. And now for Bob. Bob had come into Toddie's life one dark rainy 44 TODDIE night when that individual had been lurching home- ward, not be it with sorrow recorded without involuntary deviations and unconsidered halts to as- certain his whereabouts. "What's this?" Tod- die had ejaculated as he all but fell over the wriggling impediment. " Shoo ! ye beastie ! " But Bob would not be shooed. Tacking after his chance acquaint- ance across the reaches of Grey Friars' Gardens, fol- lowing him like a shadow, as he steered an uncertain course between the lamp-posts of Market Street, Bob succeeded in slipping into No. 7 Logic's Lane un- perceived. That night Toddie slept in his boots. But the first thing that met his sober and astonished gaze upon the following morning was Bob seated at the foot of the bed, wagging a nervous tail, but ready to be happy and confidential if cause were shown. From that moment they were even as David and Jonathan. Were it not for golf Bob would have been su- premely happy. " Ye see I canna take ye," Toddie had explained earnestly, the shaggy head between his knees. " It 's as much as ma place is worth. D' ye see that, Bob ? Ye wouldna ruin me a' the- gither, would ye now? " And Bob had listened with his almost human eyes fixed on his master, concerned but puzzled, ready for anything, save indeed to be left at home. 45 TODDIE Bob was a mystery. His birthplace, his age, his former master, his breed, all were secrets. No one knew aught about him, no more than if he had dropped from the clouds. Toddie, excited as a boy, had to repeat the story of his discovery many times. It was : " Ye see, it was like this, me here, and him there; me rubbin' ma eyes, an' him waggin' his bit tail " etc., etc. "Found him in yer bed!" ejaculated Herd, the greengrocer's assistant; then added, not without envy : " Man, ye must ha' been drunk ! " " He '11 not be a retriever, will he ? " suggested Haxton, the butcher's man, doubtfully. " He 's mair like an Aberdeen terrier, yet I confess his tail bothers me." Even McPhee, who set up for being a dog-fancier, scratched his head. " If ye look at the one-half of him ye would say a collie," he pronounced oracularly, " and if ye look at the ither weel, ye 're just flabbergasted." The three visitors went away wagging doubtful heads, while Bob, knowing well that he had been dis- paragingly criticized, feigned profound interest in a flea. " Send him to the police office," advised Haxton from the door. " Deed I will not ! " cried Toddie indignantly. " Did he no' come to me trustin'-like ? Aye, chose 46 TODDIE me oot, ye may say, from all the folk in St. An- drews? Na, na, Bob bides here." But Toddie was not kept long in the dark as far as Bob's profession was concerned, for even while they sat at breakfast upon the second morning, the sound of distant bleating floated in at the open door. In a flash Bob was transformed from a patient em- bodiment of hunger, to a breathless interrogation. A moment he stood trembling, his whole heart visibly in his ears, then bolted. On reaching Market Street his master saw him wheeling, charging, circling, and explaining to .a flock of bewildered sheep exactly what he wished them to do. " Guid sakes ! " gasped Toddie, suddenly enlight- ened. " He 's a collie ! " What was a caddie to do with a collie? There was but one solution. Bob must change his ways. In pursuance of this plan he was lectured, argued with, entreated. To do him justice he listened with great good nature, but the moment he met a sheep, away he went again like an arrow from a bow. He simply could not help it. He could no more refrain from unnecessary advice than can a relation. One consolation, that Toddie hugged to his breast, was that the dog appeared actuated only by mo- tives of kindness. Had any doubt existed on this point it would have been dispelled by his conduct one 47 TODDIE Sunday morning. The two friends had gone out for a walk when, suddenly, with a yelp of excitement, Bob cleared a wall. Hastily pursuing, Toddie found what? Bob posing as an unwelcome instructor? No. But Bob stretched on the grass beside a newly-born lamb, licking the little creature's face with every sign of tenderness and affection. 48 CHAPTER VI TODDIE was on his way to the links. The fine- ness of the morning, however, tempted him to pause where Murray Park debouched on to the Scores. " Man ! " he soliloquized, shading his eyes with a horny fist, " but the sea 's real bonnie the day. An' bright, it just bothers ye to look at it." Then, catching sight of the brown sail of a fishing boat dark against the light " Yon will be the Children's Friend. Jock and Sandy have been oot all night. A fine life ; a fine stirrin' life. Aweel, aweel, we canna all serve the Lorrd on the water. An' nae doot if His Will was known, He wouldna wish the links to be neglected." Lost in vague yet pleasurable contemplation, he did not hear the sound of approaching footsteps until a thick-set man closely followed by a terrier was upon him. " Mornin', Toddie," said the newcomer briskly. " Mornin'," growled Toddie, eying him with open distaste. 4 49 TODDIE "How's yerself ? " inquired the stranger with af- fectionate solicitude. "Fine." " I 'm glad to hear it. It was only the ither day that Auchtermuchtie says to me : ' Herd,' says he, ' Toddie 's gettin' auld ; he 's that white aboot the gills.' ' Havers ! ' says I, takin' your part, ' That 's not age, that 's drink ; when I canna afford one maself his breath is sort o' consolation to me.' ' " I '11 trouble you to leave me oot o' yer talk." " Hoots, man, no trouble at all, we had nothin' worse to talk aboot. Kirkentilloch he's just buried his Jean, his third she was Weel, says he to me : * Toddie needs chastenin', he ought to marry.' Man, ye needna glower at me, I didna say it. But he 's a lad o' experience is Kirkentilloch, says he : c Herd, ye never find real blessed peace till ye lend all yer dear ones to the Lorrd.' But I up and told him there was no fear o' you lendin' onything to onybody if ye could help it; and forby, that women just frightened ye oot o* yer life." Toddie opened his mouth angrily, then, thinking better of it, closed it with a snap. Herd possessed the unpleasant accomplishment of rubbing him up the wrong way; yet so plausible were most of his enemy's remarks that for the life of him Toddie could never think of an appropriate retort. 50 TODDIE " She found six Colonels, and five Dunlops, and two Zodiacs no later than yesterday," announced Herd suddenly, jerking his thumb with admiration at the terrier. " She gets cleverer an' cleverer every day. She 's just got a passion for lost balls. Where think ye she found one last week? In Tom Brown's shop." He laughed with immense appreciation, but Tod- die preserved a stony silence. " It 's a grand, independent life," Herd hitched himself as he spoke on to the sunlit wall. " Nothin* to do but walk aboot. Ma brains an' Nell's legs; a sort o' partnership ye would say. Lucrative, too. I made five shillings yesterday. I never know what it is to want now, the Lorrd be thankit 1 " He wiped his mouth with the back of a dirty hand, and gazed at the sea. Toddie produced an old and much abbreviated pipe. " Ye never carry now ? " he inquired of Herd, be- tween puffs. "Me? No' likely! I'm ma own master; go oot when I like; come home when I like; eat when I like, an' drink when I like." He paused, then, still gazing at the sea "Drink when I like," he re- peated softly. Toddie suppressed a strong desire to tip him over the wall. 51 TODDIE " How 's Bob ? " questioned the unconscious Herd with patronage. " Fine," grunted Toddie. " Dod ! I 'm glad to hear it. It 's no* natural for a dog to be gnawin' the legs off a kitchen table six days oot o' the seven. I hope ye give the poor beastie a run on the Sabbath ? " Toddie disdained to answer. " He canna help bein' stupid," said Herd leniently. " He 's not like Nell here. Look there see her now ! By gosh ! if she 's no' huntin' for lost balls in yon drain. Man, she 's a treat ! But, as I was minded to say, Bob 's verra bark makes ye despair o' him; just a daft, senseless noise. But we canna expect sense in a mongrel." " Mongrel yerself ." " Man, ye 're testy ! All pride, so it is. Get rid o' it, Toddie. A humble heart is what you need. Did ye hear the sermon the ither Sabbath? No? Weel, ye missed somethin' rare, for the Meenister was uplifted. He taught us what to do wi' oor tal- ents. Thinks I I had two bran new balls in ma pocket Nell had hunted oot of Colonel Hardie's bag you may say what ye like aboot dumb beasties, but ma dog sets us all an example, for she makes mair use of her one talent than does mony a Chris- tian." Accustomed though he was to parables this un- 52 TODDIE expected rendering of the Scriptures took Toddie aback. Truth to tell, he resented this embroidery as an unwarrantable encroachment upon his own rights. " See here now," Herd laid a hand on Toddie's arm, " I '11 tell ye what I '11 do. I '11 help ye teach him." " When I want yer help I '11 come for it," blurted Toddie, shaking him off. " Bob 's no' the dog to sneak aboot pickin' up things that dinna belong to him. And more the deil can quote Screepture to his purpose. Guid day, to ye." As he stumped away he heard steps following him. " Who 's Ford ? " questioned the irrepressible Herd, keeping pace. But Toddie professed not only ignorance, but indifference. " Weel, that 's queer, seein' you 're playin' with him the day." "Eh?" Toddie stopped short. " Aye, Dale and Ford. Ten minutes to ten, I seed it on the startin' board maself. Will Ford be a club member, think ye ? " Toddie scratched his head. " There 's auld Mr. Ford," he mused, forgetful of his annoyance. " But he 's near eighty." " Maybe it 's his daughter Charity they call her." 53 TODDIE Toddie laughed the suggestion to scorn. Herd, however, wagged his head. " Ye never can tell," he said darkly. " Women are aye where they 're least wanted. The lassie tries to play, I 've seen her at it maself . Maybe you and yer Major will be for giving her a lesson. I wish I could stop an' hear ye." Laughing offensively, he lurched away. Reaching the club-house, Toddie verified Herd's statement. Extremely puzzled, he consulted several of his associates, eliciting, however, nothing more satisfactory than that, as it could not be old Mr. Ford, it must be his daughter. It was early in the day to quarrel, yet Toddie was never nearer it. For a mere nothing he would have fought them all. The suggestion that his Major "a scratch player, mind ye," would allow himself to be seen in the same match with a woman, rankled deeply. "Is it likely?" he snorted with immense scorn, when McPhee tried to reason with him. " It 's human natur'," mused McPhee with melan- choly philosophy. " Ye may think to wriggle oot of it, but Natur' grips ye at the last. A woman turns yer head. She makes ye dizzy. I know what I 'm talkin' aboot, for I mind the last time but three when I was walkin' oot " But here Toddie flung himself off. 54 TODDIE Taking up his stand beneath the big window of the smoking-room a favorite position which, from its isolation, he imagined to impart dignity to one engaged by the month fears, irritations, suspi- cions all fell from him. Faith in the Major again burned high. Ford would no doubt turn out to be a visitor, a fine player. Toddie and his master would have the satisfaction of relieving him of half-a- crown at the last hole. Lovingly polishing a mashie with a wisp of sand-paper, he awaited the starting hour. The weather contributed insensibly to his regained composure. The links were deluged with sun, the frosty, clear-eyed sunlight of northern winters that tingles in the quickened blood like some rare vintage. The far hills quivered through silver haze. A flock of sea-gulls at breakfast on a patch of reclaimed land, made a cheerful clamor; at times whirling up- ward like a handful of snowflakes tossed into the blue, and again settling in a flutter of varied and infinite grace. The world seemed a good place, made on purpose for masculine golf, full of sights and sounds reminiscent of old associations, reassur- ing, intimate. " Ours will be the next number," murmured Toddie complacently, as Braid's stentorian voice roared out the players' names. With that he cast a glance to- 55 TODDIE wards the club window which generally framed the imposing figure of the Major, but that hero was no- where to be seen. Still lost in speculation, Toddie gazed vacantly, when Tarn Macintyre, who had stolen upon him un- perceived, remarked : " Look the ither way. Yon 's him comin' across the links." Toddie obeyed quickly ; as he did so his heart sank, for beside his master's soldierly form, a golf- bag depending from her shoulder, walked a woman. 56 CHAPTER VII NO sound fell upon the listening ear save the raving of the wind, a noise strangely dis- quieting to the imagination, suggestive of something that sobbed and moaned and wailed of something that pleaded to be left alone yet was hounded piti- lessly forward into the blackness of the winter's night. Even within the kitchen, where the solitary woman sat waiting, something of the same inde- scribable sensation of eerieness and abandonment made itself felt. Devina had turned down the gas from motives of economy, but the red glow of firelight played upon her. It tipped her hair, strayed like a blush over her strong dark features, reflected itself in the somber light of her eyes, and accentuated the shapely lines of her figure. Not that she was conscious of it, for she had forgotten her surroundings, forgotten even the reason of her lonely vigil. In the dusk and the silence a familiar voice was whispering to her the voice of the past. How long she sat she knew not, but she was roused from retrospection by the solemn striking of 57 TODDIE the clock. Sitting erect, she counted " One, two, three." Three o'clock! The night was far spent. " She '11 be comin' home soon now," she muttered to herself, then listened intently, but nothing was audible save the mournful violence of the gale. Mechanically, moved thereto by the lateness of the hour and still bemused with dreams, she raised her arms and slowly pulled out her hair-pins. Freed from their support, the dark and luxuriant masses fell in confusion about her shoulders. Her hair was Devina's chief glory. It reached to her knees. Though dark, it had yet the peculiar quality of attracting the light. To see it smoldering in the sunshine was purely sensuous joy. When plaited it made a rope almost as thick as her arm. Devina herself contemplated its beauty with mingled feel- ings of half-bashful gratification and openly-ex- pressed indifference. At times she was even haunted by the misgiving that its uncanny superfluity was an earnest of the divine determination to test her a temptation to vainglory which, unless she re- sisted with steadfast humility as became a member of the U. P. Kirk, would inevitably drag her down to the horrors of the pit. With listless fingers, hardly aware of what she did, she began to disentangle the massive and shining coils. Then, acting under the influence of some semi-conscious instinct, she rose, turned up the gas, 58 TODDIE and stood before a small mirror suspended on the wall. For a moment or two she silently contemplated her image, contemplated it with a stern and critical impartiality that yet had in it something of the pathetic wistfulness inherent in her nature. But as she gazed, a swift frown darkened her face. " What 's the use o' it," she muttered with bitter- ness. " Much good it 's done ye." Then abruptly, and in sudden panic : " What 's this ? Undressin' in the kitchen! What would the mistress say? Think shame o' yersel' for a daft auld wife ! " All at once, clearly distinct in the silence of the night, came the rumble of distant wheels. In less time than it takes to record it, Devina was at the front door, peering into the gusty darkness. " Ye 're late," she said as a muffled figure came quickly towards her. Despite the ungracious words even a stranger would have distinguished the note of real solicitude. "Why did you sit up?" came a fresh young voice. " I never meant you to do that. I have the key." "Hoots! Can a key unfasten ye behind? A godless hour o' night this to be gallivantin'. Come away to yer bed." As they entered the bedroom, Charity cried out : " A fire ? That is nice of you. And soup ? De- 59 TODDIE vina, you spoil me. Why " She broke off and gazed up at her attendant in wonderment. Devina betrayed instant confusion. Her hands sought her head. " I *m sorry," she apologized gruffly. " I wasna thinkin' what I was doin'." " It 's not that, but " She touched a long and dusky tress. " I 've never seen your hair down be- fore. It 's ever so much thicker than mine. De- vina " She looked up with smiling admiration into the self-conscious face " Devina, you 're hand- some." " Havers ! " cried Devina, visibly flattered, but protesting. " But you are. Very handsome. Every one must think so. I wonder why " She did not finish the sentence; and Devina, ap- parently unaware of the omission, began to relieve her of her cloak. It was a pretty picture that was given to the gas- light. But, charming as was the costume, it was the face that attracted, for its dominant characteristic was a peculiarly endearing and sunny charm. And it was evident that Devina too was of this opinion, for as she stepped back, the cloak still in her hands, her eyes reflected nothing but a loving and whole-hearted admiration. Suddenly aware of inspection, Charity smiled. 60 "Do you like it?" she asked. "Do I look nice?" Devina sniffed, and feigned immediate interest in the cloak. " It 's a Godly heart I 'm lookin' to see in you, Miss Charity, and not merely a hankerin' after earthly braws. In the midst o' life we are in death. Here, stand still till I undo ye." " The lace is beautiful, is n't it? " commented Charity, touching it lightly. " It 's weel enough." " Well enough 1 Why, it 's the making of it. Of course there were several prettier dresses. Lily Lo- gan's now " " Her. Set her up ! A gawky, red-headed washin' pole, so she is. With a neck on her like a scarecraw. She couldna hold a candle to you, dress or no dress. Umph, were there ony ithers ? " It is pleasant to record how unexpectedly gentle was the touch of this serving woman's hands, hard and work-worn though they were, and with what obvious and proprietary pride she waited upon her mistress. Nor is it less pleasant to tell of the affection and childlike dependence as though the elder woman were a sister rather than a servant with which Charity accepted her services. " Did you help the Master to bed? " asked the latter, seated before the fire and sipping soup. 61 TODDIE " Of course." " Poor Daddy, he 's getting very old, Devina ; and very feeble ; I hope he did n't miss me much." " Hoots, he never missed ye at all ! Says he, 'I'm glad she's en joy in' herself.' 'It's good for her young legs,' says I. Then when I 'd given him his pipe, says he : ' You and I get on fine, De- vina.' ' Onybody would get on wi' you,' says I, * for ye 're no' like a man at all.' ' " And what did he say to that compliment? " " Compliment? I never pay compliments. It was the truth. For a more civil-spoken auld gentle- man I never wish to wait on. Oh, he will have his bit joke! He canna help that somethin' aboot dancin' it was, but I just told him that we auld folk were better at home." "Old folk? What nonsense!" " Na, there 's no nonsense aboot it. I 'm thirty- three, ma dear, just an auld maid. But what does it matter; naebody cares." " Thirty-three 's not so very old. I '11 be thirty myself in seven years. And besides I care." Devina's face glowed, but she only said : " Yer hair 's comin' out ; ye put too many French denti- frishes on. Nothing touches mine but cauld water, an' it was the same with ma mother before me. Keep yer head still. What like dances had ye? " She listened to the vivacious account with keen 62 TODDIE feminine curiosity, through which shone a nai've and modest amazement. " Have you never been to a dance? " asked her mistress, roused by her ejaculations. " Never." " Don't you like dancing? " Devina shook her head. " Na, na, dancin' has never come ma way. I used to keek at them all dancin' at the fair. I aye liked the music fine, but, Lorrd keep us ! I know too much aboot men to be carin' to be gripped by the likes o' them." Charity did not smile, for there was that in the deep voice that would have stifled all temptation to merriment. " You 've not been happy," she said impulsively, then wished the question unspoken, for curiosity con- nected with Devina seemed an inexcusable lack of delicacy. But to her surprise and relief Devina did not resent it. The hour, the silence, the shaded lights, the atmosphere of sympathy, had not only broken down the barriers of reticence but had ob- literated class distinctions. More they awoke in Devina's lonely heart an imperative longing to be understood by one of her own sex to seek the alleviation of spoken words, if only words would come. For a moment there was a silence painfully sug- gestive of effort, then in a low awkward voice, and 63 brushing sedulously at her mistress's hair Devina began : " I might have been happy, but how can I tell ye. It 's the way ye 're made. Some folk get all the love, an' others get none." She broke off, then with a burst of feeling strangely and unexpectedly eloquent : " Oh, it 's easy for you, ma dearie, with your laughin' wee face and bonnie manners to win love, and glad and proud am I to see it but I 'm different. There was a time I once thought but that 's all over now. Naebody will ever love me. Whisht, keep still, ye needna contradict. I ken fine what I 'm sayin'. When ye 've a face that glowers like like a ghost, ye just give folk the shudders. I 've thought about it more than I like to tell ye. Folk are blind, an' ye canna blame them, for a woman's heart is like her hair I 'm thinkin', mostly out o' sight, and it 's the false that makes the most show." There was a note of unconscious tragedy in her voice that seemed to rise from some profound depth of sadness and disillusion. It moved Charity deeply, but fearful of interruption, and still under the spell of surprise, she sat still. " There was father," continued Devina colorlessly. " I believe he was willin' to love me. That 's queer, is it no'? But I was hard on him. He was just a bairn, ye may say, and bairns canna thrive without 64 TODDIE love ; an' I gave him black looks and a rough tongue. What if he did drink? " Her voice rose harsh and aggressive. " What if he was n't honest an' sairly wanted releegion? Didna everybody love him? An' it was ma fault. When mother died * Be kind to him, Devina,' says she. And how did I do it? I drove him to his death." " No, no." " But aye, it 's clear to me now. If I 'd brung him up different would he have stolen yon treesure? Would he have gone wi' all his sins like scarlet straight to the Judgment Seat o' God? " " But he was drowned trying to do his duty trying to bring it back." " And so he was, the Lorrd be thanked ! And now it 's his own daughter that 's tryin' her best to rob him o' his good name. That 's just like me. Here, pass that ribbon." " Was there no one else? " asked Charity in a low voice. There came no answer, but the hands tying the ribbon trembled. " Don't tell me, Devina t I should n't have asked." " There 's little to tell, dearie, only anither mis- take. But " Her tone changed swiftly " what right have I to trouble you, more shame to me a young thing like you. I have to thank ye, ma 5 65 TODDIE dear, for listenin* sae kindly, I canna think what made me talk like that. Hoots! " Her hand rested on the girl's shoulder, for Charity was looking round at her with very real trouble in her eyes " Hoots, never bother yer head about me I 'm fine. Now, sup yer soup and say yer prayers." Little more was said, and that little touched ex- clusively on practical matters, but as Devina crossed the room to put out the gas, something white on the carpet attracted her attention. She picked it up. " That 's my program. Give it to me." The tone of the girl's voice made Devina look at her. Charity, now beneath the bedclothes, was holding out her hand. " What like 's a program ? " she questioned with curiosity. The explanation caused her to cry : " I 'd like fine to see it." Charity hesitated. " Only if ye like," added Devina with a flush. Receiving permission she inspected it with eager- ness. " Ma word ! What a lot o' dances ! And will these queer marks be yer partners ? " "Y-es." '* I canna make them out. Here 's a D. an' there 's 66 TODDIE a D. and there 's anither and anither D. further on ten, aye eleven. And who will D. be ? " Her grave, truth-compelling eyes rested on her mistress. Charity, rosy with a pretty embarrassment, was forced to murmur: " Major Dale." erf CHAPTER VIII THE confession of the program did not pass from Devina's mind. And to realize to the full its effect upon her, it will be necessary to dwell upon her relations towards her mistress. Devina belonged to that fast disappearing class of Scottish domestic servants whose interests are welded inseparably with those of their employers who enter service with no thought of chang- ing who remain in it with no idea of " bettering " themselves who become almost one of the family, honest, self-respecting, hard-working, and plain- speaking, subject to tantrums, as who among us is not ? but steadfast as their native hills and, if put to the proof, faithful even unto death. And it was but natural that Devina, entering the Fords' employment bowed down by her father's tragic death and broken by her one disastrous love affair, should attach herself passionately to the motherless girl who came into her empty life like a heaven-sent consolation, unconsciously appealing to love and fostering care. 68 TODDIE The heart of the lonely woman a heart too big to be articulate, capable of all devotion, all self- sacrifice expended itself with unstinting prodigal- ity. It gave its all and looked for no return. Yet this labor of love brought its own reward. In the day-long service, in the unsleeping vigilance, even in the practice of rigid and unnecessary economy Devina, unseeking, found temporary anodyne from sorrow. And if, in the night watches, the phantoms of dead hopes haunted her pillow, she would banish them sternly, forcing wistful dreams, and tender but unrealized anticipations to the bottom of her aching heart. Her position in the household had from the first been one of unquestioned authority. Her fellow servants discovered, greatly to their indignation, that if they failed to please Devina they had to go an alternative of which they availed themselves with disconcerting frequency. Unsparing towards her- self, she had no thought of sparing others. As a cook she had proved a failure. Not but that her performances, viewed from the dining-room, were above reproach. Still, the meals in the kitchen were productive of nothing but discontent, aggravated by her suspicion of " nights out " and deadly hostility to " followers." " Jane has given warning," Charity had said once, when she was old enough to visit the kitchen for the 69 TODDIE purpose of " receiving " rather than " giving " or- ders. " A good riddance," Devina had retorted grimly. " That is the third housemaid in six months." " Weel, we 're better without them. A set o* silly hussies, aye thinkin' of their faces or their stomachs. I 've no patience with them." Elevated to the rank of lady's maid a promotion due more to interest than suitability Devina took kindly to her new duties. It pleased her well to be the personal attendant of " the mistress." But far from being puffed up, she was not above turning her hand to anything required, or not required, of her, from sweeping floors to cleaning silver. As an overseer of slaves Devina would have been invalua- ble ; but as one of a civilized household, expected to run in treble harness with a cook and a house-table maid it must be admitted that Devina was a sad stumbling-block. Between her and her fellows there was war perennial and bitter that stopped short only at active hostilities, for she exercised over them a grim and suspicious surveillance hard to be borne, harder to forgive. " Do yer duty an' I 've naethin' to say," she would explain to a newcomer in a tone that announced that, as far as she was concerned, her mind was made up for the worst. Taken to task by Charity for some speech of es- 70 TODDIE pecial severity, she would listen with a comical mix- ture of penitence and obstinacy, then cry : " Did I not see her eatin' your dessert? No better nor a common thief! Aye, ye can go and see for yerself, Miss Charity ; there 's only six sweeties left in the dish, and was I to let that pass? Not likely ! " Domineering over her mistress, guarding her inter- ests with the fidelity of an honest watch-dog, envelop- ing her with a worship that, balked of natural outlet, struggled continually to express itself in a barren and intemperate zeal, Devina had gradually come to con- sider Charity as a something peculiarly her own, a treasure confided to her care during their passage through a naughty world. The simile of the dog holds good. For even as a collie might defend a lamb from wolves, so was Devina prepared to defend her mistress from men. Nor was she without high authority for her dis- torted philosophy, abounding in Scriptural quotations from which, though she usually kept them to herself, she derived an austere and melancholy satisfaction. " All men are liars," may be cited as an example. Still, with commendable foresight she did not seek to induce her mistress to forbid them the house. Sterling common sense whispered to her that even were she successful a result by no means probable, for Charity was not without considerable independ- ence of character she would, by so doing, put her- 71 TODDIE self beyond the pale of confidence. This fear brought her heart to her mouth, for the delightful intimacy when she waited on her mistress and listened enthralled to the girlish chatter were the golden hours of Devina's life. Forced to dissemble, and even to feign an interest in these natural foes she was far from feeling, Devina watched them come and go with profound, if secret, disapproval. Until the night of the ball, however, all had seemed well. Despite her remarks to Toddie upon the occasion of her memorable tea-party, even her jealous eyes had discovered no real cause for apprehension. Charity, coaxed artfully thereto, had always appeared ready to air her innocent views upon all male visitors with the light-hearted ingenuousness of one essentially fancy free. But the episode of the program had banished for- ever all feelings of security. Too poignantly aware of the swift and insidious advances of love, Devina noted with mute consternation the infallible symp- toms the sudden illuminating silence when Dale's name was mentioned, the tell-tale blush that, like a danger signal, gave warning of his approach and, so noting, marveled at and passed censure on her blindness. It was characteristic of her that she blamed neither Charity nor the Major. It was to her morbidly con- scientious mind as though she herself had proved 72 TODDIE false to a solemn trust. Exaggerated as was this conviction, it yet had its roots in the soil of bitter personal experience. Seared by a great sorrow, the one preoccupation of her troubled and unselfish heart was to save this young and joyous life from a similar catastrophe. Wistfully and with infinite pathos she recalled the days when she, too, had trembled and grown glad, when the world had seemed nothing but a dream of color, and light, and music recalled also the dark awakening, the abandonment, the despair. Who shall ridicule her for her misgivings, extrava- gant though they were? Who but must pity and sympathize ? She did not give in. Something could surely be done ? What ? Resolutely she set herself to face the situation. It was she, Devina, single-handed against the oldest and most immutable law of nature. As she recognized the might of the forces ranged against her, there rose in her bosom a cold and deadly sensa- tion of impotence. She strove to fight it down, angry at her weakness, but it would not be dismissed. If only she could find an ally, some one who shared her views, some one whose interests and whose happiness were equally at stake. But to whom could she turn? To Charity? No. To one of her fellow servants? Never. CHAPTER IX