HAD never dreamed I would live to see masel' keepin' appintments wi' twa separate young men on the same night, and if I hadna chanced to be born modest I might ha'e let masel' get puffed up wi' thinkin' on ma popularity. A' the same, I would as soon think o' refusin' a respectable compliment as I would a new laid egg, both o' which was scarce owin' to the war.
Like the girl in a story I had been readin', I lingered ower ma toilet that Sunday afternune. I was glad it was summer time, and I could wear ma pink frock, which was new laundried and sweet-smellin'. When I looked at masel' in the glass, I couldna but confess that I had seen uglier. I doubt ma fayther would ha'e had a word to say aboot vanity, especially as I was bound first for the Kirk, but I ken ma mither would ha'e smiled and smoothed him doon. Ma mither's bonny yet, though fat.
The cook wagged her head when she seen me gaun oot, and told me I would catch ma death o' cauld frae the sea air, and speired if I would tak' a cup o' double-strong cocoa to ma supper.
So I had to tell her I wouldna be in for ma supper, and left her throwin' up her hands and cryin': "Sirs, the day! In ma youth I aye was in for ma supper! "
I near said: "And ye look it!"—but she's no' a bad auld thing, and I had to thank her for an extra night oot.
I needna trouble ye wi' an account o' the sermon. I took a note o' the text so that I could report it to ma fayther; he aye likes to ken. I would say it was a vera guid sermon on the whole, though rayther complicated for ma taste; the bits o' poetry in it was far frae catchy. Hooever, I'll admit I wasna an extra attentive listener that day; there was a young man in the gallery which behove hissel' rael badly, squintin' at me every minute and tryin' to catch ma eye, which I'm glad to say he didna manage often. Still, that wasna the only thing to worry me. I was feart I would find Frederick waitin' for me when the Kirk skailed. But after a', he wasna there. Somehow, I wasna as pleased as I fancied I would ha'e been. I would ha'e liked him to be there, but no' to see me. Aweel, as ma fayther says, "We canna expect Providence to oblige us both ways."
I strolled along the shore road till I cam' to the Sunnyburn road, appearin' to be interested in naething but the Firth o' Clyde, which was lookin' as nice as ever I seen it. Several young men favoured me wi' approvin' glances, which was not returned.
As I gaed up the Sunnyburn Road, I had a keek through the hedge o' the garden o' "Seaview," and spied the Colonel sittin' on a seat wi' Miss Tinto. I could ha'e heaved a turnip at the auld blighter! Even the scratch on his nose, which was still red, had failed to touch his faithless heart and turn his thoughts to love's young dream o' long ago! I put oot ma tongue at him, and went on ma way. But next minute, takin' another keek, I spied Mr. Parkins in the summer hoose, snoozin' as usual. "Miserable wretch!" I says to him ablow ma breath, "can ye no' think shame to live on your wife the way ye're daein'—loafin' aboot day after day, and lettin' her work like a slave? Oh, that a bumbee would sting that neb o' yours and mak' ye jump!"
I waited to see if ma prayer would be granted, but evidently none o' the numerous bumbees was sick o' life, and at last I walked on, wonderin' if ma own fayther and mither was the only pair in the world to be happy though married. I never was as near vowin' to be single for a' eternity.
The Sunnyburn Road has fine high hedges, and it never runs straight for long. I was glad o' that, for it's embrassin' when ye catch sight o' a chap aboot a mile awa' on a straight, flat road. I believe it's worse for the chap, for girls is cleverer at pretendin' they're blin' and their feelin's; but the chap, as a rule, commences to smile and lifts his hat far ower early, and by the time he comes up to ye, he jist looks silly—and kens it, which causes him to look sillier.
But, to tell ye the truth, I didna recognise the porter when he cam' round a corner, till I noticed his game leg. He was sich a swell in a bright broon suit and a pink tie, and he had a new yellowish-green golfin' bonnet wi' a skep that would ha'e kept his feet dry if it had been rainin'.
I canna say that ma colour didna deepen slightly, like the girl's I had been readin' aboot, but a tomato would ha'e been a ghost alongside him. Still, he wasna so backward when it cam' to speakin'.
"It's yoursel' at last," says he. "I was fearin' I would ha'e to gi'e up hope—been up and doon this road a score o' times. 'Deed and I'm glad to see ye, Jemima! And hoo are ye keepin'?"
"Fairly weel, thank ye," I says, "and I'll be obliged if ye'll let go ma hand, no' to mention ma best glove."