Courtin' Christina

Said Mrs. Robinson, a little impatiently: “Come awa’, come awa’, afore everything gets spiled. Macgreegor has nae business to be that late.” She glanced at the clock. “He’s been the same a’ week. Haste ye, John.”

John opened his mouth, but catching his wife’s eye, closed it again without speech.

Excepting Jimsie, they came to the table rather reluctantly.

“Ask a blessin’, fayther,” murmured Lizzie.

“Shut yer eyes,” muttered Jeannie to her little brother, while she restrained his eager paw from reaching a cookie.

Mr. Purdie’s white head shook slightly as he said grace; he had passed his five and seventieth birthday, albeit his spirit was cheerful as of yore; in his case old age seemed to content itself with an occasional mild reminder.

John distributed portions of stewed finnan haddie, Lizzie poured out the tea, while Jeannie methodically prepared a small feast for the impatient Jimsie. Gran’paw Purdie beamed on the four, but referred surreptitiously at brief intervals to his fat silver watch.

* * * * *

It is eight years since last we saw the Robinson family. Naturally we find the greatest changes in the younger members. Jimsie from an infant has become a schoolboy; he is taller, more scholarly, less disposed to mischief, more subdued of nature than was Macgregor at the same age; yet he is the frank, animated young query that his brother was, though, to be sure, he has a sister as well as parents to puzzle with his questions. At thirteen Jeannie is a comely, fair-haired little maid, serious for her years, devoted to Jimsie, very proud of Macgregor, and a blessing to her parents who, strangely enough, rarely praise her; her chief end seems to be to serve those she loves without making any fuss about it.

As for John, he has grown stouter, and to his wife’s dismay a bald spot has appeared on his crown; his laughter comes as readily as ever, and he is just as prone to spoil his children. But by this time Lizzie has become assured that her man’s light-hearted, careless ways do not extend to his work, that his employers have confidence in their foreman, and that while he is not likely to rise higher in his trade, he is still less likely to slip back. She is proud of the three-roomed modern flat in which she and hers dwell, and her sense for orderliness and cleanliness has not lost its keenness. In person she is but little altered: perhaps her features have grown a shade softer.

* * * * *

“Ye see, Maister Purdie,” John was explaining, “Macgreegor’s busy the noo at a job in the west-end, an’ that’s the reason he’s late for his tea.”

“’Deed, ay. It’s a lang road for him to come hame,” said the old man. “An’ is he still likin’ the pentin’ trade?”

“Ay, ay. An’ he’s gettin’ on splendid――jist splendid!”

“It’s time enough to be sayin’ that,” Lizzie interposed. “He’s no’ ony furder on nor a lad o’ his age ought to be. I’m no’ sayin’ he’s daein’ badly, fayther; but there’s nae sense in boastin’ aboot what’s jist or’nar’?――Na, Jimsie! it’s no’ time for jeelly yet. Tak’ what Jeannie gi’es ye, laddie.――Ay, the least said――――”

“But his employer’s pleased wi’ him; he tell’t me as much, wife,” said John. “An’ if ye compare Macgreegor wi’ that young scamp, Wullie Thomson――――”

“Oh, if ye compare a man wi’ a monkey, I daresay it’s no’ sae bad for the man. But, really, John――――”

“Maw, where was the man wi’ the monkey?” enquired Jimsie through bread and butter.

“I’ll tell ye after,” whispered Jeannie, and forthwith set her mind to improvise a story involving a human being and his ancestor.