by J. M. Barrie
CHAPTER XXVII
THE LONGER CATECHISM
In the meantime Mr. McLean was walking slowly to the Quharity Arms,fanning his face with his hat, and in the West town end he came uponsome boys who had gathered with offensive cries round a girl in a lustrejacket. A wave of his stick put them to flight, but the girl onlythanked him with a look, and entered a little house the window of whichshowed a brighter light than its neighbors. Dr. McQueen came out of thishouse a moment afterwards, and as the two men now knew each otherslightly, they walked home together, McLean relating humorously how hehad spent the evening. "And though Commander Sandys means to incarcerateme in the Tower of London," he said, "he did me a good service the otherday, and I feel an interest in him."
"What did the inventive sacket do?" the doctor asked inquisitively; butMcLean, who had referred to the incident of the pass-book, affected notto hear. "Miss Ailie has told me his history," he said, "and that hegoes to the University next year."
"Or to the herding," put in McQueen, dryly.
"Yes, I heard that was the alternative, but he should easily carry abursary; he is a remarkable boy."
"Ay, but I'm no sure that it's the remarkable boys who carry thebursaries. However, if you have taken a fancy to him you should hearwhat Mr. Cathro has to say on the subject; for my own part I have beenmore taken up with one of his band lately than with himself--a lassie,too."
"She who went into that house just before you came out?"
"The same, and she is the most puzzling bit of womankind I ever fell inwith."
"She looked an ordinary girl enough," said Mr. McLean.
The doctor chuckled. "Man," he said, "in my time I have met all kinds ofwomen except ordinary ones. What would you think if I told you that thisordinary girl had been spending three or four hours daily in that houseentirely because there was a man dying in it?"
"Some one she had an affection for?"
"My certie, no! I'm afraid it is long since anybody had an affection forshilpit, hirpling, old Ballingall, and as for this lassie Grizel, shehad never spoken to him until I sent her on an errand to his house aweek ago. He was a single man (like you and me), without womenfolk, aschool-master of his own making, and in the smallest way, and his oneattraction to her was that he was on his death-bed. Most lassies of herage skirl to get away from the presence of death, but she prigged, sir,fairly prigged, to get into it!"
"Ah, I prefer less uncommon girls," McLean said. "They should not havelet her have her wish; it can only do her harm."
"That is another curious thing," replied the doctor. "It does not seemto have done her harm; rather it has turned her from being a dour,silent crittur into a talkative one, and that, I take it, is a sign ofgrace."
He sighed, and added: "Not that I can get her to talk of herself and hermother. (There is a mystery about them, you understand.) No, theobstinate brat will tell me nothing on that subject; instead ofanswering my questions she asks questions of me--an endless rush ofquestions, and all about Ballingall. How did I know he was dying? Whenyou put your fingers on their wrist, what is it you count? which is theplace where the lungs are? when you tap their chest what do you listenfor? are they not dying as long as they can rise now and then, and dressand go out? when they are really dying do they always know itthemselves? If they don't know it, is that a sign that they are not soill as you think them? When they don't know they are dying, is it bestto keep it from them in case they should scream with terror? and so onin a spate of questions, till I called her the Longer Catechism."
"And only morbid curiosity prompted her?"
"Nothing else," said the confident doctor; "if there had been anythingelse I should have found it out, you may be sure. However, unhealthilyminded though she be, the women who took their turn at Ballingall'sbedside were glad of her help."
"The more shame to them," McLean remarked warmly; but the doctor wouldlet no one, save himself, miscall the women of Thrums.
"Ca' canny," he retorted. "The women of this place are as overdriven asthe men, from the day they have the strength to turn a pirn-wheel to theday they crawl over their bed-board for the last time, but never yethave I said, 'I need one of you to sit up all night wi' an unweel body,'but what there were half a dozen willing to do it. They are a grandrace, sir, and will remain so till they find it out themselves."
"But of what use could a girl of twelve or fourteen be to them?"
"Use!" McQueen cried. "Man, she has been simply a treasure, and but forone thing I would believe it was less a morbid mind than a sort ofdivine instinct for nursing that took her to Ballingall's bedside. Thewomen do their best in a rough and ready way; but, sir, it cowed to seethat lassie easying a pillow for Ballingall's head, or changing a sheetwithout letting in the air, or getting a poultice on his back withoutdisturbing the one on his chest. I had just to let her see how to dothese things once, and after that Ballingall complained if any othersoul touched him."
"Ah," said McLean, "then perhaps I was uncharitable, and the nurse'sinstinct is the true explanation."
"No, you're wrong again, though I might have been taken in as well asyou but for the one thing I spoke of. Three days ago Ballingall had aghost of a chance of pulling through, I thought, and I told the lassiethat if he did, the credit would be mainly hers. You'll scarcely believeit, but, upon my word, she looked disappointed rather than pleased, andshe said to me, quite reproachfully, 'You told me he was sure to die!'What do you make of that?"
"It sounds unnatural."
"It does, and so does what followed. Do you know what straiking is?"
"Arraying the corpse for the coffin, laying it out, in short, is itnot?"
"Ay, ay. Well, it appears that Grizel had prigged with the women to lether be present at Ballingall's straiking, and they had refused."
"I should think so," exclaimed McQueen, with a shudder.
"But that's not all. She came to me in her difficulty, and said that ifI didna promise her this privilege she would nurse Ballingall no more."
"Ugh! That shows at least that pity for him had not influenced her."
"No, she cared not a doit for him. I question if she's the kind thatcould care for anyone. It's plain by her thrawn look when you speak toher about her mother that she has no affection even for her. However,there she was, prepared to leave Ballingall to his fate if I did notgrant her request, and I had to yield to her."
"You promised?"
"I did, sore against the grain, but I accept the responsibility. You arepained, but you don't know what a good nurse means to a doctor."
"Well?"
"Well, he died after all, and the straiking is going on now. You saw hergo in."
"I think you could have been excused for breaking your word and turningher out."
"To tell the truth," said the doctor, "I had the same idea when I sawher enter, and I tried to shoo her to the door, but she cried, 'Youpromised, you _can't_ break a promise!' and the morbid brat that she islooked so horrified at the very notion of anybody's breaking a promisethat I slunk away as if she had right on her side."
"No wonder the little monster is unpopular," was McLean's comment. "Thechildren hereabout seem to take to her as little as I do, for I had todrive away some who were molesting her. I am sorry I interfered now."
"I can tell you why they t'nead her," replied the doctor, and herepeated the little that was known in Thrums of the Painted Lady, "Andyou see the womenfolk are mad because they can find out so little abouther, where she got her money, for instance, and who are the 'gentlemen'that are said to visit her at Double Dykes. They have tried many ways ofdrawing Grizel, from heckle biscuits and parlies to a slap in the face,but neither by coaxing nor squeezing will you get an egg out of a sweerhen, and so they found. 'The dour little limmer,' they say, 'stalkingabout wi' all her blinds down,' and they are slow to interfere whentheir laddies call her names. It's a pity for herself that she's notmore communicative, for if she would just satisfy the women's curiosityshe would find them full of kindness. A terrib
le thing, Mr. McLean, iscuriosity. The Bible says that the love of money is the root of allevil, but we must ask Mr. Dishart if love of money is not a misprint forcuriosity. And you won't find men boring their way into other folk'sconcerns; it is a woman's failing, essentially a woman's." This was thedoctor's pet topic, and he pursued it until they had to part. He hadopened his door and was about to enter when he saw Gavinia passing onher way home from the Den.
"Come here, my lass," he called to her, and then said inquisitively,"I'm told Mr. McLean is at his tea with Miss Ailie every day?"
"And it's true," replied Gavinia, in huge delight, "and what's more, shehas given him some presents."
"You say so, lassie! What were they now?"
"I dinna ken," Gavinia had to admit, dejectedly. "She took them out o'the ottoman, and it has aye been kept looked."
McQueen looked very knowingly at her. "Will he, think you?" he askedmysteriously.
The maid seemed to understand, for she replied, promptly, "I hope hewill."
"But he hasna spiered her as yet, you think?"
"No," she said, "no, but he calls her Ailie, and wi' the gentry it's butone loup frae that to spiering."
"Maybe," answered the doctor, "but it's a loup they often bogle at. I'seuphaud he's close on fifty, Gavinia?"
"There's no denying he is by his best," she said regretfully, and thenadded, with spirit, "but Miss Ailie's no heavy, and in thae grite armso' his he could daidle her as if she were an infant."
This bewildered McQueen, and he asked, "What are you blethering about,Gavinia?" to which she replied, regally, "Wha carries me, wears me!" Thedoctor concluded that it must be Den language.
"And I hope he's good enough for her," continued Miss Ailie'swarm-hearted maid, "for she deserves a good ane."
"She does," McQueen agreed heartily; "ay, and I believe he is, for hebreathes through his nose instead of through his mouth; and let me tellyou, Gavinia, that's the one thing to be sure of in a man before youtake him for better or worse."
The astounded maid replied, "I'll ken better things than that about mylad afore I take him," but the doctor assured her that it was the boxwhich held them all, "though you maun tell no one, lassie, for it's myone discovery in five and thirty years of practice."
Seeing that, despite his bantering tone, he was speaking seriously, shepressed him for his meaning, but he only replied sadly, "You're like therest, Gavinia, I see it breaking out on you in spots."
"An illness!" she cried, in alarm.
"Ay, lassie, an illness called curiosity. I had just been telling Mr.McLean that curiosity is essentially a woman's ailment, and up you comeahint to prove it." He shook a finger at her reprovingly, and wasprobably still reflecting on woman's ways when Grizel walked home atmidnight breathing through her nose, and Tommy fell asleep with hismouth open. For Tommy could never have stood the doctor's test of a man.In the painting of him, aged twenty-four, which was exhibited in theRoyal Academy, his lips meet firmly, but no one knew save himself how hegasped after each sitting.
