Complete Works of J. M. Barrie

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  “I was told,” Babbie went on, “that the minister’s wife was rather like me.”

  “Heaven forbid!” ejaculated Nanny, so fervently that all three suddenly sat back from the table.

  “I’m no meaning,” Nanny continued hurriedly, fearing to offend her benefactress, “but what you’re the bonniest tid I ever saw out o’ an almanack. But you would ken Mr. Dishart’s contempt for bonny faces if you had heard his sermon against them. I didna hear it mysel’, for I’m no Auld Licht, but it did the work o’ the town for an aucht days.”

  If Nanny had not taken her eyes off Gavin for the moment she would have known that he was now anxious to change the topic. Babbie saw it, and became suspicious.

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  “When did he preach against the wiles of women, Nanny?”

  “It was long ago,” said Gavin, hastily.

  “No so very lang syne,” corrected Nanny. “It was the Sabbath after the sojers was in Thrums; the day you changed your text so hurriedly. Some thocht you wasna weel, but Lang Tammas — —”

  “Thomas Whamond is too officious,” Gavin said with dignity. “I forbid you, Nanny, to repeat his story.”

  “But what made you change your text?” asked Babbie.

  “You see he winna tell,” Nanny said, wistfully. “Ay, I dinna deny but what I would like richt to ken. But the session’s as puzzled as yoursel’, Babbie.”

  “Perhaps more puzzled,” answered the Egyptian, with a smile that challenged Gavin’s frowns to combat and overthrow them. “What surprises me, Mr. Dishart, is that such a great man can stoop to see whether women are pretty or not. It was very good of you to remember me to-day. I suppose you recognized me by my frock?”

  “By your face,” he replied, boldly; “by your eyes.”

  “Nanny,” exclaimed the Egyptian, “did you hear what the minister said?”

  “Woe is me,” answered Nanny, “I missed it.”

  “He says he would know me anywhere by my eyes.”

  “So would I mysel’,” said Nanny.

  “Then what colour are they, Mr. Dishart?” demanded Babbie. “Don’t speak, Nanny, for I want to expose him.”

  She closed her eyes tightly. Gavin was in a quandary. I suppose he had looked at her eyes too long to know much about them.

  “Blue,” he guessed at last.

  “Na, they’re black,” said Nanny, who had doubtless known this for an hour. I am always marvelling over the cleverness of women, as every one must see who reads this story.

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  “No but what they micht be blue in some lichts,” Nanny added, out of respect to the minister.

  “Oh, don’t defend him, Nanny,” said Babbie, looking reproachfully at Gavin. “I don’t see that any minister has a right to denounce women when he is so ignorant of his subject. I will say it, Nanny, and you need not kick me beneath the table.”

  Was not all this intoxicating to the little minister, who had never till now met a girl on equal terms? At twenty-one a man is a musical instrument given to the other sex, but it is not as instruments learned at school, for when She sits down to it she cannot tell what tune she is about to play. That is because she has no notion of what the instrument is capable. Babbie’s kind-heartedness, her gaiety, her coquetry, her moments of sadness, had been a witch’s fingers, and Gavin was still trembling under their touch. Even in being taken to task by her there was a charm, for every pout of her mouth, every shake of her head, said, “You like me, and therefore you have given me the right to tease you.” Men sign these agreements without reading them. But, indeed, man is a stupid animal at the best, and thinks all his life that he did not propose until he blurted out, “I love you.”

  It was later than it should have been when the minister left the mud house, and even then he only put on his hat because Babbie said that she must go.

  “But not your way,” she added. “I go into the wood and vanish. You know, Nanny, I live up a tree.”

  “Dinna say that,” said Nanny, anxiously, “or I’ll be fleid about the siller.”

  “Don’t fear about it. Mr. Dishart will get some of it tomorrow at the Kaims. I would bring it here, but I cannot come so far tomorrow.”

  “I HAVE READ MY FORTUNE.”

  “Then I’ll hae peace to the end o’ my days,” said the old woman, “and, Babbie, I wish the same to you wi’ all my heart.”

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  “Ah,” Babbie replied, mournfully, “I have read my fortune, Nanny, and there is not much happiness in it.”

  “I hope that is not true,” Gavin said, simply.

  They were standing at the door, and she was looking toward the hill, perhaps without seeing it. All at once it came to Gavin that this fragile girl might have a history far sadder and more turbulent than his.

  “Do you really care?” she asked, without looking at him.

  “Yes,” he said stoutly, “I care.”

  “Because you do not know me,” she said.

  “Because I do know you,” he answered.

  Now she did look at him.

  “I believe,” she said, making a discovery, “that you misunderstand me less than those who have known me longer.”

  This was a perilous confidence, for it at once made Gavin say “Babbie.”

  “Ah,” she answered, frankly, “I am glad to hear that. I thought you did not really like me, because you never called me by my name.”

  Gavin drew a great breath.

  “That was not the reason,” he said.

  The reason was now unmistakable.

  “I was wrong,” said the Egyptian, a little alarmed; “you do not understand me at all.”

  She returned to Nanny, and Gavin set off, holding his head high, his brain in a whirl. Five minutes afterwards, when Nanny was at the fire, the diamond ring on her little finger, he came back, looking like one who had just seen sudden death.

  “I had forgotten,” he said, with a fierceness aimed at himself, “that tomorrow is the Sabbath.”

  “Need that make any difference?” asked the gypsy.

  “At this hour on Monday,” said Gavin, hoarsely, “I will be at the Kaims.”

  He went away without another word, and Babbie 142 watched him from the window. Nanny had not looked up from the ring.

  “What a pity he is a minister!” the girl said, reflectively. “Nanny, you are not listening.”

  The old woman was making the ring flash by the light of the fire.

  “Nanny, do you hear me? Did you see Mr. Dishart come back?”

  “I heard the door open,” Nanny answered, without taking her greedy eyes off the ring. “Was it him? Whaur did you get this, lassie?”

  “Give it me back, Nanny, I am going now.”

  But Nanny did not give it back; she put her other hand over it to guard it, and there she crouched, warming herself not at the fire, but at the ring.

  “Give it me, Nanny.”

  “It winna come off my finger.” She gloated over it, nursed it, kissed it.

  “I must have it, Nanny.”

  The Egyptian put her hand lightly on the old woman’s shoulder, and Nanny jumped up, pressing the ring to her bosom. Her face had become cunning and ugly; she retreated into a corner.

  “Nanny, give me back my ring or I will take it from you.”

  The cruel light of the diamond was in Nanny’s eyes for a moment, and then, shuddering, she said, “Tak your ring awa, tak it out o’ my sicht.”

  In the meantime Gavin was trudging home gloomily composing his second sermon against women. I have already given the entry in my own diary for that day: this is his:—”Notes on Jonah. Exchanged vol. xliii., ‘European Magazine,’ for Owen’s ‘Justification’ (per flying stationer). Began Second Samuel. Visited Nanny Webster.” There is no mention of the Egyptian.

  * * *

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  Chapter Sixteen.

  CONTINUED MISBEHAVIOUR OF THE EGYPTIAN WOMAN.

  By the following Monday it was known at many looms that something sat heavi
ly on the Auld Licht minister’s mind. On the previous day he had preached his second sermon of warning to susceptible young men, and his first mention of the word “woman” had blown even the sleepy heads upright. Now he had salt fish for breakfast, and on clearing the table Jean noticed that his knife and fork were uncrossed. He was observed walking into a gooseberry bush by Susy Linn, who possessed the pioneer spring-bed of Thrums, and always knew when her man jumped into it by suddenly finding herself shot to the ceiling. Lunan, the tinsmith, and two women, who had the luck to be in the street at the time, saw him stopping at Dr. McQueen’s door, as if about to knock, and then turning smartly away. His hat blew off in the school wynd, where a wind wanders ever, looking for hats, and he chased it so passionately that Lang Tammas went into Allardyce’s smiddy to say —

  “I dinna like it. Of course he couldna afford to lose his hat, but he should hae run after it mair reverently.”

  Gavin, indeed, was troubled. He had avoided speaking of the Egyptian to his mother. He had gone to McQueen’s house to ask the doctor to accompany him to the Kaims, but with the knocker in his hand he changed his mind, and now he was at the place of meeting alone. It was a day of thaw, nothing to be heard from a distance but the swish of curling-stones through 144 water on Rashie-bog, where the match for the eldership was going on. Around him, Gavin saw only dejected firs with drops of water falling listlessly from them, clods of snow, and grass that rustled as if animals were crawling through it. All the roads were slack.

  I suppose no young man to whom society has not become a cheap thing can be in Gavin’s position, awaiting the coming of an attractive girl, without giving thought to what he should say to her. When in the pulpit or visiting the sick, words came in a rush to the little minister, but he had to set his teeth to determine what to say to the Egyptian.

  This was because he had not yet decided which of two women she was. Hardly had he started on one line of thought when she crossed his vision in a new light, and drew him after her.

  Her “Need that make any difference?” sang in his ear like another divit, cast this time at religion itself, and now he spoke aloud, pointing his finger at a fir: “I said at the mud house that I believed you because I knew you. To my shame be it said that I spoke falsely. How dared you bewitch me? In your presence I flung away the precious hours in frivolity; I even forgot the Sabbath. For this I have myself to blame. I am an unworthy preacher of the Word. I sinned far more than you who have been brought up godlessly from your cradle. Nevertheless, whoever you are, I call upon you, before we part never to meet again, to repent of your — —”

  And then it was no mocker of the Sabbath he was addressing, but a woman with a child’s face, and there were tears in her eyes. “Do you care?” she was saying, and again he answered, “Yes, I care.” This girl’s name was not Woman, but Babbie.

  Now Gavin made an heroic attempt to look upon both these women at once. “Yes, I believe in you,” he said to them, “but henceforth you must send your money to 145 Nanny by another messenger. You are a gypsy and I am a minister; and that must part us. I refuse to see you again. I am not angry with you, but as a minister — —”

  It was not the disappearance of one of the women that clipped this argument short; it was Babbie singing —

  “It fell on a day, on a bonny summer day,

  When the corn grew green and yellow,

  That there fell out a great dispute

  Between Argyle and Airly.

  “The Duke of Montrose has written to Argyle

  To come in the morning early,

  An’ lead in his men by the back o’ Dunkeld

  To plunder the bonny house o’ Airly.”

  “Where are you?” cried Gavin in bewilderment.

  “I am watching you from my window so high,” answered the Egyptian; and then the minister, looking up, saw her peering at him from a fir.

  “How did you get up there?” he asked in amazement.

  “On my broomstick,” Babbie replied, and sang on —

  “The lady looked o’er her window sae high,

  And oh! but she looked weary,

  And there she espied the great Argyle

  Come to plunder the bonny house o’ Airly.”

  “What are you doing there?” Gavin said, wrathfully.

  “This is my home,” she answered. “I told you I lived in a tree.”

  “Come down at once,” ordered Gavin. To which the singer responded —

  “‘Come down, come down, Lady Margaret,’ he says;

  ‘Come down and kiss me fairly

  Or before the morning clear day light

  I’ll no leave a standing stane in Airly.’”

  “If you do not come down this instant,” Gavin said in a rage, “and give me what I was so foolish as to come for, I — —”

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  The Egyptian broke in —

  “‘I wouldna kiss thee, great Argyle,

  I wouldna kiss thee fairly;

  I wouldna kiss thee, great Argyle,

  Gin you shouldna leave a standing stane in Airly.’”

  “You have deceived Nanny,” Gavin cried, hotly, “and you have brought me here to deride me. I will have no more to do with you.”

  He walked away quickly, but she called after him, “I am coming down. I have the money,” and next moment a snowball hit his hat.

  “That is for being cross,” she explained, appearing so unexpectedly at his elbow that he was taken aback. “I had to come close up to you before I flung it, or it would have fallen over my shoulder. Why are you so nasty to-day? and, oh, do you know you were speaking to yourself?”

  “You are mistaken,” said Gavin, severely. “I was speaking to you.”

  “You didn’t see me till I began to sing, did you?”

  “Nevertheless I was speaking to you, or rather, I was saying to myself what — —”

  “What you had decided to say to me?” said the delighted gypsy. “Do you prepare your talk like sermons? I hope you have prepared something nice for me. If it is very nice I may give you this bunch of holly.”

  She was dressed as he had seen her previously, but for a cluster of holly berries at her breast.

  “I don’t know that you will think it nice,” the minister answered, slowly, “but my duty — —”

  “If it is about duty,” entreated Babbie, “don’t say it. Don’t, and I will give you the berries.”

  She took the berries from her dress, smiling triumphantly the while like one who had discovered a cure for duty; and instead of pointing the finger of wrath at her, Gavin stood expectant.

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  “But no,” he said, remembering who he was, and pushing the gift from him, “I will not be bribed. I must tell you — —”

  “Now,” said the Egyptian, sadly, “I see you are angry with me. Is it because I said I lived in a tree? Do forgive me for that dreadful lie.”

  She had gone on her knees before he could stop her, and was gazing imploringly at him, with her hands clasped.

  “You are mocking me again,” said Gavin, “but I am not angry with you. Only you must understand — —”

  She jumped up and put her fingers to her ears.

  “You see I can hear nothing,” she said.

  “Listen while I tell you — —”

  “I don’t hear a word. Why do you scold me when I have kept my promise? If I dared to take my fingers from my ears I would give you the money for Nanny. And, Mr. Dishart, I must be gone in five minutes.”

  “In five minutes!” echoed Gavin, with such a dismal face that Babbie heard the words with her eyes, and dropped her hands.

  “Why are you in such haste?” he asked, taking the five pounds mechanically, and forgetting all that he had meant to say.

  “Because they require me at home,” she answered, with a sly glance at her fir. “And, remember, when I run away you must not follow me.”

  “I won’t,” said Gavin, so promptly that she was piqued.

  “Why not?
” she asked. “But of course you only came here for the money. Well, you have got it. Goodbye.”

  “You know that was not what I meant,” said Gavin, stepping after her. “I have told you already that whatever other people say, I trust you. I believe in you, Babbie.”

  “Was that what you were saying to the tree?” asked 148 the Egyptian, demurely. Then, perhaps thinking it wisest not to press this point, she continued irrelevantly, “It seems such a pity that you are a minister.”

  “A pity to be a minister!” exclaimed Gavin, indignantly. “Why, why, you — why, Babbie, how have you been brought up?”

  “In a curious way,” Babbie answered, shortly, “but I can’t tell you about that just now. Would you like to hear all about me?” Suddenly she seemed to have become confidential.

  “Do you really think me a gypsy?” she asked.

  “I have tried not to ask myself that question.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it seems like doubting your word.”

  “I don’t see how you can think of me at all without wondering who I am.”

  “No, and so I try not to think of you at all.”

  “Oh, I don’t know that you need do that.”

  “I have not quite succeeded.”

  The Egyptian’s pique had vanished, but she may have thought that the conversation was becoming dangerous, for she said abruptly —

  “Well, I sometimes think about you.”

  “Do you?” said Gavin, absurdly gratified. “What do you think about me?”

  “I wonder,” answered the Egyptian, pleasantly, “which of us is the taller.”

  Gavin’s fingers twitched with mortification, and not only his fingers but his toes.

  “Let us measure,” she said, sweetly, putting her back to his. “You are not stretching your neck, are you?”

  But the minister broke away from her.

  “There is one subject,” he said, with great dignity, “that I allow no one to speak of in my presence, and that is my — my height.”

  His face was as white as his cravat when the surprised Egyptian next looked at him, and he was panting 149 like one who has run a mile. She was ashamed of herself, and said so.