“Thou dear father! It is enough! With a thousand kisses I thank thee.”
“Too many kisses! Too many kisses! Thou shalt give me five when we finish our dance; one for my curled hair, and one for my white, fresh linen, and one for my socks, and one for my buckled shoes, and the last for my new blue suit. And in that bargain thou wilt get the best of me, so one favour in return from thee I must have.”
“Dear Father, thy will is my will. What is thy wish?”
“I want thy promise not to dance with Wolf Baikie. Because of his sneer I am coaxed to dress as I do not want to dress. Well, then, I will take his place with thee, and every dance he asks from thee is to be given to me.”
Without a moment’s hesitation Thora replied: “That agreement does not trouble me. It will be to my great satisfaction. So, then, thou art no nearer to getting the best of the bargain.”
“Thou art a clever, handsome little baggage. But my promises I will keep, and it is well for me to be about them. Time flies talking to thee,” and he looked at his watch and said, “It is now five minutes past five.”
“Then thou must make some haste. Dinner is set for six o’clock.”
“Dost thou think I will fiddle-faddle about myself like a woman?”
“But thou must wash–”
“In the North Sea I wash me every morning. Before thou hast opened thy eyes I have had my bath and my swim in the salt water.”
“There is rain water in thy room; try it for a change.” And he answered her with a roar of laughter far beyond Thora’s power to imitate. But with it ringing in her heart and ears she saw him go to a spare room to keep his promises. Then she hastened to her mother.
“Whatever is the matter with thy father, Thora?”
“He has promised to wash and dress. I got all I asked for.”
“Will he change his suit?”
“He has a fine new suit. It was hid away in Aunt’s room.”
“What made him do such a childish thing?”
“To please thee, it was done. It was to be a surprise, I think.”
“I will go to him.”
“No, no, Mother! Let father have the pleasure he planned. To thee he will come, as soon as he is dressed.”
“Am I right? From top to toe?”
“From top to toe just as thou should be. The white roses in thy cap look lovely with the violet silk gown. Very pretty art thou, dear Mother.”
“I can still wear roses, but they are white roses now. I used to wear pink, Thora.”
“Pink and crimson and yellow roses thou may wear yet. Because white roses go best with violet I put that colour in thy cap for tonight. Think of what my aunt said when thou complained to her of growing old, ‘Rahal, the mother of twelve sons and daughters is always young.’ Now I will run away, for my father does everything quickly.”
In about ten or fifteen minutes, Rahal Ragnor heard him coming. Then she stood up and watched the swift throwing open of the door, and the entrance of her husband. With a cry of pleasure she clapped her hands and said joyfully:
“Oh, Coll! Oh, my dear Coll!” and the next moment Coll kissed her.
“Thou hast made thyself so handsome–just to please me!”
“Yes, for thee! Who else is there? Do I please thee now?”
“Always thou pleases me! But tonight, I have fallen in love with thee over again!”
“And yet Thora wanted me to wear my kirk suit,” and he walked to the glass and looked with great satisfaction at himself. “I think this suit is more becoming.”
“My dear Coll, thou art right. A good blue flannel suit is a man’s natural garment. To everyone, rich and poor, it is becoming. If thou always dressed as thou art now dressed, I should never have the heart or spirit to contradict thee. Thou could have thy own way, year in and year out.”
“Is that the truth, my dear Rahal? Or is it a compliment?”
“It is the very truth, dear one!”
“From this hour, then, I will dress to thy wish and pleasure.”
She stepped quickly to his side and whispered: “In that case, there will not be in all Scotland a more distinguished and proper man than Conall Ragnor!”
And in a large degree Conall Ragnor was worthy of all the fine things his wife said to him. The new clothes fell gracefully over his grand figure; he stepped out freely in the light easy shoes he was wearing; there was not a single thing stiff or tight or uncomfortable about him. Even his shirt collar fell softly round his throat, and the bright crimson necktie passed under it was unrestrained by anything but a handsome pin, which left his throat bare and gave the scarf permission to hang as loosely as a sailor’s.
At length Rahal said, “I see that Boris and the ship are safely home again.”
“Ship and cargo safe in port, and every man on board well and hearty. On the stroke of six he will be here. He said so, and Boris keeps his word. I hear the sound of talking and laughing. Let us go to meet them.”
They came in a merry company, Boris, with Sunna Vedder on his arm leading them. They came joyously; singing, laughing, chattering, making all the noise that youth seems to think is essential to pleasure. However, I shall not describe this evening. A dinner-dance is pretty much alike in all civilized and semi-civilized communities. It will really be more descriptive to indicate a few aspects in which this function of amusement differed from one of the same kind given last night in a fashionable home or hotel in New York.
First, the guests came all together from some agreed-upon rendezvous. They walked, for private carriages were very rare and there were none for hire. However, this walking party was generally a very pleasant introduction to a more pleasant and intimate evening. The women were wrapped up in their red or blue cloaks, and the men carried their dancing slippers, fans, bouquets, and other small necessities of the ballroom.
Second, the old and the young had an equal share in any entertainment, and if there was a difference, it was in favour of the old. On this very night Conall Ragnor danced in every figure called, except a saraband, which he said was too slow and formal to be worth calling a dance. Even old Adam Vedder who had come on his own invitation–but welcome all the same–went through the Orkney Quickstep with the two prettiest girls present, Thora Ragnor and Maren Torrie. For honourable age was much respected and every young person wished to share his happiness with it.
A very marked characteristic was the evident pleasure old and young had in the gratification of their sense of taste, in the purely animal pleasure of eating good things. No one had a bad appetite, and if anyone wished for more of a dish they liked, they asked for it. Indeed they had an easy consciousness of paying their hostess a compliment, and of giving themselves a little more pleasure.
Finally, they made the day, day; and the night, night. Such gatherings broke up about eleven o’clock; then the girls went home unwearied, to sleep, and morning found them rosy and happy, already wondering who would give them the next dance.
CHAPTER II
ADAM VEDDER’S TROUBLE
… they do not trust their tongues alone
But speak a language of their own;
Convey a libel in a frown,
And wink a reputation down;
Or by the tossing of a fan,
Describe the lady and the