F I ha'ena said much aboot the boarders at "Seaview," it's no' because I ha'ena been thinkin' aboot them, ay, and observin' them. As ye ha'e maybe noticed, I'm o' a canny disposition, and I try to keep mind o' ma fayther's advice, never to judge folk frae their ootsides, nae matter hoo ill-favoured they are.
But at the end o' three weeks I must say what I think o' Col. Beetle, or burst. Oh, yon's no' a nice man! The other mornin', when me and Mrs. Parkins was makin' the beds, I says to her:—
"It's a pity the Colonel doesna treat his lady kinder. I wonder he doesna think shame o' hissel'."
"I hardly think it is any business of yours, Jemima," says Mrs. Parkins, but no' angrily.
"Maybe no', mem," I says; "but I canna help takin' an interest in the folk stoppin' in your hoose."
"That is well enough," she says. "Still, you are not expected to express opinions of them. I may tell you, however, that Colonel Beadle's manner used to worry me a good deal, but after a while I came to the conclusion that he could not help it—it is only his way. You know, we all have our little peculiarities."
"Ye're ower tender, mem," I tells her. "I believe ye would ha'e an excuse for a man that killed his granny for a shillin'."
"Really, Jemima!" she exclaims.
"It's no' as if the Colonel was ill-natured to everybody," I says. "He's as sweet as treacle to the other ladies—and dear knows they're far frae lovely."
"That will do," says she, takin' oot her hanky and blawin' her nose several times.
"I hope ye're no' catchin' the flue, mem," I says anxiously, but she didna answer, and I couldna get her on to the Colonel again, though I was keen to learn mair aboot the man.
The same day I speired at Frederick aboot him.
"I believe he was a fine sojer in his day," says Frederick.
"Ay, but what's your opinion o' him noo?" says I.
"I think he'a no' a bad sort."
"Gracious heavens!" says I, "are ye blin' and deaf? Ha'e ye never noticed hoo he jumps on puir Mrs. Beetle?"
"Oh, ye'll soon get used to that, Jemima," he says carelesslike. "It's jist his way."
For aboot half a second I was speechless. Then I says, slow and solemn:—
"Did ye never feel like takin' him by the scruff o' the neck and shovin' his face in his soup?"
Frederick stared at me.
"Or clappin' the cheese puddin' on his wicked auld head?" says I.
"No," says he, "I never did! But if he's said onything to offend you, Jemima"
I waved him awa'.
"I'm disappinted in ye, and I ha'e nae mair to say on the subject."
And I made him leave it at that.
At night, the cook bein' in extra low spirits, owin' to the boarders ha'ein' devoured a' the green peas but five, I took her oot for some fresh air jist afore bedtime—she hadna been oot o' the hoose since she arrived—and we had a ten minutes' stroll along the shore. Oh, me! I never understood till then why the sea waves was called sad. Betwixt broodin' on the green peas and wishin' she was in her bed, she wasna cheery company. I wanted to get her opinion o' the Colonel, but a' she would say was that she supposed he was nae wickeder nor other men, and that we a' had oor burdens to bear. So I changed the subject, enquirin' hoo she was enjoyin' oor adventure by the ocean.
"Oh dear, oh dear," says she, "I think the niff o' the salt water doesna agree wi' me, and the sight o' them and other creepin' things gi'es me a grue—and if I had only dreamt the greedy folk was gaun to shift a' the peas like that, I would ha'e kept back ma own portion. Come awa' hame, lassie, and we'll ha'e a cup o' cocoa afore we gang to oor beds, and try to forget the greed o' folk and the cauld air o' this place."
I tell ye I was fair depressed when I cam' to say ma prayers that night. I could ha'e done fine wi' a sight o' the inside o' ma fayther's hoose. Hooever, I was a' right again in the mornin', and fit for onything.
At breakfast the Colonel was savager nor ever, cryin' "fiddlesticks" and the like at everything his lady said. I think the others was annoyed at him, except, maybe, Miss Tinto, which let oot a giggle as if it was funny. The only thing I could dae was to see that he got the wee-est egg—I would ha'e gi'ed sixpence if it had been a rank bad yin—and keep shiftin' the marmalade, which he was daft for, to the other side o' the table.
Afterwards I told Frederick what I had done, but he said he couldna see that I had done onything that wouldna mak' the man crosser to his wife,
"And what would you ha'e done?" says I.
"Naething," says he. "If I couldna appeal to his better nature, I would let him be."