by W. W. Jacobs
III.
SANDY AND THE DINNER BELL,
Crack aboot holidays! I tell you, I'd raither do a day's washin' an'cleaning', ay, an' do the ironin' an' manglin' efter that, than faceanither holiday like what Sandy an' me had this week. Holiday! It's awinder there wasna a special excursion comin' hame wi' Sandy's bur'al.If that man's no' killed afore lang, he'll be gettin' in amon' thaeanarkist billies or something. I tell you he's fit eneuch for onything.
We took the cheap trip to Edinboro, juist to hae a bit look round themetrolopis, as Sandy ca'd it to the fowk i' the train. He garred mestart twa-three times sayin't; I thocht he'd swallowed his pipe-shank,he gae sic a babble.
We wasna weel startit afore he begude wi' his nonsense. There was ayoung bit kimmerie an' a bairnie i' the carriage, an' the craturie gratlike onything. "I winder what I'll do wi' this bairn?" said thelassie; an' Sandy, in the middle o' argeyin' wi' anither ass o' a manthat the Arbroath cricketers cud lick the best club i' the country,says, rale impident like to the lassie, "Shuve't in ablo the seat."
"You hertless vegabon," says I; "think shame o' yoursel! Gie me thebairnie," says I; an' I got the craturie cowshined an' quieted.
There was nae mair nonsense till we cam till a station in Fife wi' an'awfu'-like name. I canna mind what it was, an' never will, I suppose.The stationmester had an awfu' reed nose--most terriple.
"Is the strawberries a gude crap roond aboot here?" said Sandy tillhim, out at the winda; an' you never heard what lauchin' as there wason the pletform. The stationmester's face got as reed's his nose, an'he ca'd Sandy for a' the impident whaups that ever travelled.
Sal, Sandy stack up till him, though; an' when the train moved awa' thefowk hurrehed like's it had been a royal marriage. The stationmesterdidna hurreh ony.
Gaen ower the Forth Brig I thocht twa-three times Sandy wud be oot atthe window heid-lang. I was juist in a fivver wi' him an' his ongaens.Hooever, we landit a' richt in Edinboro. An' what a day! I thochtwhen we got to a temperance hotel at nicht that I had a chance o' an'oor's peace. But haud your tongue! Weesht! I'll juist gie you thethick o' the story clean aff luif.
It was a rale comfortable-lookin' hoose, and we got a niceclean-lookin' bedroom, an' efter a'thing was arranged, Sandy an' megaed awa' doon as far as Holyrood, whaur Queen Mary got ane o' herfiddlers killed, an' whaur John Knox redd her up for carryin' on like apagan linkie instead o' the Queen o' Scotland. Weel, it was gey latewhen we got back to oor hotel, an' we juist had a bit snack o' supper,an' up the stair we gaed. We were three stairs up. We had a seat, an'a crack an' a look oot at the winda, for we saw a lang wey ower thetoun, an' it was bonnie to watch the lichts twinklin' an' to hear thesoonds.
Twal o'clock chappit, an' we thocht it was time we were beddit. I wasanower, an' Sandy was juist a' ready, when he cudna fa' in wi' hisnichtkep. It was in a handbag o' Sandy's, and he had left it doon inthe lobby. Sandy canna sleep without his nichtkep--no' him!
"What am I genna do?" says Sandy. He was in his lang white nichtgoon,and he gaed to the room door an' opened it. He lookit oot, but a'thingwas as quiet's death.
"I'll rin doon for't," says he; "a'body's beddit. I'll juist rin doon,an' I'll bring up my umberell an' my hat at the same time, for fearthey micht be liftit. You never can tell."
Awa' doou the stairs he gaed in his lang nichtgoon, for a' the earthjuist like some corp escapit frae the kirkyaird. He wasna a meenit ootwhen I dreedit something wud happen, an' I juist sat up tremblin' inthe bed.
Sandy got doon to the lobby a' richt; an' a'thing was dark, an' asstill's the grave. He scrammilt aboot till he got the bag; syne hefand for his lum hat, an' put it on his heid. He got his umberell inhis oxter, an' the bag in his hand, an' then he fand roond juist to seeif there was naething else he had forgotten. By ill-fortune he cam' onthe handle o' the denner bell, an' liftin't, it ga'e a creesh an' aclang that knokit a' the sense oot o' Sandy's heid, and wauken'd halfthe fowk i' the hoose. Sandy took till his heels up the stair; an' agey like picture he was, wi' his lang, white sark-tails fleein' i' theair, a lum hat on his heid, an umberell in his oxter, the bag in aehand, an' the denner bell i' the ither, bangin' an' clangin' at ilkyjump. It wudda frichten'd the very deevil himsel'. The stupid auldfule had gotten that doited that he cam' fleein' awa' wi' the bell inhis hand.
There was a cry o' fire, and a scream o' murder, an' in half a meenitthe hotel was as busy as gin it had been broad daylicht. Sandy forgothoo mony stairs he had to clim', and he gaed bang in on an auld seacaptain an' his wife, in the room below oors. It fair paralised baitho' them, when they saw Sandy comin' burst in on them wi' his blacktile, his white goon, his umberell an' bag, an' the denner bell.
"P'leece, p'leece," roared the captain an' his wife--an' Sandy oot atthe door. Awa' alang a passage he gaed, fleein' like a huntit tod. Iheard him as gin he'd been doon in the very bowels o' the earth cryin',"Bawbie, Bawbie! Oh, whaur are ye, Bawbie?"
"Wha i' the earth is he, or what's ado wi' him?" I heard somebody speer.
"Gude kens," said anither voice. "It's shurely some milkman wi' thebloo deevils."
"Milkman! What wud a milkman do wi' an umberell, a portmanty, an' alum hat?"
Juist at that meenit Sandy cam' fleein' alang the passage again, an' bythis time a' the fowk in the hotel were oot on the stairs. If you hadonly seen the scrammel. They scoored doon the stairs, into pantries,in below tables; the room doors were bangin' like thunder, an' Sandy'sbell was ringin' like's Gabriel had lost his trumpet. You never heardsic a din. I saw him comin' leggin' up the stair. The stairheid wasfu' o' fowk, a' oot in their nicht-goons to see what was ado; but, Ican ashure you, when they saw Sandy comin' fleein' up, they shunedisappeared. Six policemen cudna scattered them so quick. He camespankin' into my room, an' drappit intil a chair, fair oot o' pech.
"Oh, Bawbie, Bawbie!" he cried, "gi'e's a drink. Tak' that umberell,"he says, haudin' oot the bell to me. "I've been fleein' a' roondEdinboro wi' naething on but my nicht-goon, an' my lum, an' a' the coalcairters i' the kingdom ringin' their bells at my tails. Sic a wey o'doin'! O dear me! I wiss I was hame again! O dear me!"
"That's no an umberell, you doited fule," says I. "That's the dennerbell you've been fleein' aboot wi' i' your hand."
Sandy lookit at the bell; an' you never saw sic a face as he put on.He lut it drap on the flure wi' a clash like a clap o' thunder, an' Iheard a crood o' fowk scurryin' awa' frae oor bedroom door.
I tell'd the landlord hoo the thing happened, an' next mornin' atbrakfast time you never heard sic lauchin'. A' the chaps were clappin'Sandy on the shuder; an' ane o' them says--"Ay, man; it's no mony fowkthat tak's their lum hat an' their umberell to their bed wi' them."
But the auld skipper was the king amon' them a'. Hoo he raggit Sandyaboot bein' a somnambulashinist or something.
"When you want to steal a denner bell," he said to Sandy, "carry't bythe tongue, man. It's safer that wey. Bells an' weemin are awfu'beggars when their tongues get lowse."
The captain was rale taen wi' Sandy, an', mind you, he hired a cab an'drave Sandy an' me a' roond the toon. He said he was bidin' inCarnoustie, and he wadna hae a nasay but we wud come an' hae a cup o'tea wi' him. "An' if you'll bide a' nicht," he said, "we'll be awfu'pleased. An' I'll chain up the denner bell i' the dog's cooch juistfor that nicht."
Ay, weel! it's fine lauchin' noo when it's a' ower. But if you'd beenin my place, you wudna lauchen muckle, I'se warrant.
