‘A wumman comes in frae Kirkfieldbank to clean, juist.’
‘What wey daes Mary no come back?’
‘She has a hoose ο her ain, nou. Quait, will ye, or I’ll hae to send ye hame.’
I said naer mair, but I couldna help thinkin it wasna like Mary to leave her mither like that.
I was daein her wrang, though, for there was anither thing I didna ken.
I learnt it frae my cuisin Jockie, whan I was back at the same hedge again, in the simmer, efter birds’ nests. I happened to mention hou mony nests Mary had kent, and said it was a peety she wasna still at the Gill, when he gied me a queer sleekit look.
‘Dan Finlay’s gien her a bairn.’
‘A bairn? Whaur did he get it?’
‘He gied her it. Hou daes a bull gie a cou a cauf?’
I didna ken, and I didna like the look he had gien me, sae I ran awa up to the shed, whaur my grannie was weying the strawberries into fower pund baskets, and packin them into crates for the mercat.
‘Grannie?’
‘Ay?’
‘Is it true that Mary Lauder has a bairn?’
‘Ay. She has a wee lassie. She’s Mrs Finlay nou, at Nether Affleck. Wha’s been tellin ye aboot it?’
‘My cuisin Jockie.’
‘What was he sayin?’
I didna like to tell her what he had been sayin. She saw that I was haudin something back.
‘He hasna been sayin ocht aboot the affair at Yule, has he?’
‘Na.’
‘I hope no. There’s been ower muckle talk, and it frichtens folk.’
‘What happened at Yule, grannie?’
‘Dinna fash yer heid. Forget aa aboot it. Rin awa doun to yer grandfaither and tell him I’m running oot ο crates.’
It was a lang time afore I fand oot what had happened at Yule, and by that time I wasna sae green.
This was the wey ο it.
Whan Mary first gat mairrit she was able to gang aboot her mither ilka ither day, to keep her frae wearyin, but efter that, wi the bairn to fend for, she was haurdly able to rin doun to the Gill at aa, and her mither began to fret, especially for a sicht o the bairn. Tam gat that worrit to see her sae dowie that in the end he wad hear ο nocht bune that the bairn suld be brocht to its grannie to bide ower Yule.
By this time Mrs Lauder had taen to her bed, in the paurlour closet, but she could sit up and gaffer, and she had the hoose like a pictur. Tam had sortit some holly oot into dentie wee sprigs, and they had been struck up aa roun the room, some abune the mantel-piece, some abune the picturs, and some roun the bust ο Rabbie Burns. There was mair in the big bedroom up the front stairs, whaur Mary was to sleep wi her Dan, and her ain wuiden creddle had been gotten frae the garret, to save her bringin the bairn’s, and whan it was dune up wi lace, and laid atween the fire-end and the bed, wi a holly brainch stuck to the croun ο its rufe, and a new rattle hung frae ane ο its corners, it was like a fairy thing.
Mary didna ken it, but the feck ο the wark on the creddle had been dune by the wee daftie.
It was snawin whan Dan drave doun wi the gig, but Mary had the bairn weill happit, and her ain cheeks were bricht wi the drive in the cauld. Tam liftit the bairn doun and cairrit it straucht in to Mrs Lauder, leavin Dan to look efter Mary and syne gang to the stable to tether his horse. Bye and bye they were aa roun Mrs Lauder’s bed, and she was fair joco, sortin the bairn’s hippen and deivin Mary wi guid advice. Tam and Dan had a dram, Mary had a gless ο Madeira, and aa were in fettle for a grand Yule.
The efternune wore on, though, and Mary gaed up the front stairs to feed the bairn and gie it some sleep. Mrs Lauder lay doun. The fash had wearit her. Tam and Dan gaed doun to the kitchen to sleep aff their dram and wait for tea-time.
The twa dafties stertit to lay the table.
The bairn fed its fill and fell awa frae Mary’s breist, sleepin at ance. Mary held it for a while, syne laid it in the creddle. She was sleepy hersell, for the fire had been made up heich and the room was cosie. She drew a big chair close to the fire and sat doun to nod.
It was hauf daurk whan she waukent. The fire was lown, and the winnock was smoored wi snaw. She shivert. Then her hairt lowpit.
Someane, ahint her, had poued tae the door.
She rase and gaed oot on the landin. The wee daftie was turnin the corner ο the stair. Mary cried doun efter her.
‘Whaur hae ye been? Hae ye been up here?’
The wee daftie turnt roun, a queer frichtent look on her face.
‘I was told to put coal on the fire.’
‘What wey did ye no, then?’
‘You were asleep.’
‘Sort the fire nou, then. Is the tea ready?’
‘Yes.’
Mary gaed back and had a look at the bairn. It was sleepin soun. The wee daftie stertit to the fire. Mary stude watchin her, waitin for her to feenish.
‘Hurry up, will ye, and win awa doun.’
The daftie feenished wi the fire and left. Mary had anither look at the bairn. There was nocht to gar her fash. It was still sleepin soun. She left and gaed awa doun for her tea.
In the kitchen the shutters were tae and the lamp was lichtit, and the table was laden. There were fower kinds ο jam, a beylt ham, a muckle tongue, a black bun, a cherrie cake and a box ο tangerines. Tam and Dan were staunin waitin.
‘Oh there ye are,’ said Tam. ‘I was juist gaun to caa ye. Sit in, nou, baith ο ye; and Mary, I think we’ll hae grace.’
It was seldom Tam caaed for a grace. This tea was bye the ordinar. Aa through it the big daft ane sat by the kitchen fire, ready to fill up the teapot. The wee ane gaed back and forrit, whiles but the hoose to the scullery, whiles up the stairs to the paurlor to serve Mrs Lauder in her bed.
Tam and Dan ate fit to burst, and argied aboot fermin maitters. Mary sat quait.
Ootbye the efternune grew wilder. The roar ο Stanebyres Linn, that ye could hear aye for ordinar, was drount in the bluster ο the wind. Muckle wraiths ο snaw fell aff the rufe and thunnert on the grun aneth the waas.
Tam turnt to Dan.
‘It maun be turnin to rain.’
‘Ay.’
It wasna lang afore the blatter ο rain could be heard on the shutters.
‘Thank the Lord for a rufe and a guid fire,’ said Tam.
Aa at ance Mary strauchtent in her chair.
‘Whaur’s the wee daftie?’
They aa lookit roun. The wee daftie was oot. Tam turnt to the lang ane at the fire.
‘Whaur’s the wee ane?’
‘I dinna ken.’
‘Whaur did she gang last?’
‘Up the stairs.’
Mary rase and ran up the stairs.
‘I kent it. She’s efter the bairn!’
Tam gied a twistit sort a lauch and said she had gane gyte. But whan a meenit passed and