Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland Volume XIII Part 8

"It's a story," replied he, the tears still standing in his eyes, "that Andrew here has been tellin me, aboot the minister o' Kirkfodden and his servant la.s.s--and a very guid ane it is. Andrew, will I tell it?" he added, turning round to the person who had told him the story.

"Surely, surely," replied Andrew; "let it gang to the general guid."

Aweel, freends (said mine host, now confronting his auditors), the minister o' Kirkfodden, ye maun ken, is, though a clergyman, a droll sort o' body, and very fond o' a curious story, and still fonder o' a guid joke--and no a whit the waur is he o' that; for he is a guid, worthy man, as I mysel ken. The minister had a servant la.s.s they ca'd Jenny Waterstone--a young, guid-lookin, decent, active quean; and she had a sweetheart o' the name o' David Widrow--a neighbourin ploughman lad, a very decent chield in his way--wha used to come skulkin aboot the manse at nichts, to get a sicht and a word o' Jenny, withoot ony objection on the part o' the minister, wha believed it to be, as it really was, an honourable courts.h.i.+p on baith sides. Ae nicht, being later in his garden than usual--indeed, until it got pretty dark--the minister's attention was suddenly attracted by a loud whisperin on the ither side o' the garden wa', just opposite to where he stood. He listened a moment, and soon discovered that the whisperers were David Widrow and his servant, and overheard, as the nicht was uncommonly lown, the followin conversation between the lovin pair:--

"I fear, Jenny," said David, "that the minister winna be owre weel pleased to see me comin sae aften aboot the house."

"I dinna think he'll be ill pleased," replied Jenny. "He's no ane o'

that kind."

"Still," said David, "I had better let the nicht fa', now and then, before I come; and then he'll no see me mair than four times a-week or sae. He canna count that bein very troublesome."

"Just as ye like, David," said she.

"But how am I to let ye ken I'm here?" inquired the lover.

"Ye can just gie a rap at the kitchen window, and I'll come oot to ye,"

replied the girl.

"Very weel," said David; "I'll come and rap at the back window the morn's nicht."

"Do sae," replied she; "and, if I canna get oot to ye at the moment, just step into the barn till I come. I'll leave the door open for ye."

This matter arranged, the lovers parted, little suspectin wha had overheard them; and the minister went into the house. On the followin evenin, a little after dark, the doctor, closely wrapped up in a plaid belongin to his servin-man, slipped oot, and, stealin up behind the house, till he cam to the kitchen window, gave the preconcerted signal, by gently tappin on it with his fingers. Jenny, who was employed at the moment in bottlin aff a sma' cask o' choice strong ale, for his ain particular use, immediately answered the ca', raised the window, and put oot her head.

"Is that you, David?" said she.

"Yes," said the minister, in a whisper so gentle as to prevent her recognisin his voice.

"I canna get to ye at present," said Jenny; "for I'm engaged bottlin some ale, and maun put it a' past before I gang oot; the minister's waitin till I tak it up the stair; but love maks clever hands, as they say, and I'll gie ye something to keep ye frae wearyin, in the meantime, till I come." Sayin this she handed him oot a bottle o' the ale, and a basket containin some cakes and cheese. "Now," said she, "tak thae awa to the barn wi' ye, David, and tak a bite and a sowp till I come." And she drew down the window, and resumed her work. The minister, without sayin a word, retired wi' his booty, and placed it in a dark corner at a little distance. In a short time he again returned to the window, and again rapped. The window was promptly thrown up, and Jenny's head thrust oot.

"Can ye gie's anither bottle, Jenny?" said the minister, speakin as low as before, and disguisin his voice as well as he could.

"Anither bottle, David!" exclaimed Jenny, in surprise. "Gude save us frae a' evil! hae ye finished a hail bottle already? My troth, that's clever wark! But I canna gie ye anither the nicht, David. It's a' put past. Besides, ye hae aneugh for ae nicht."

"Weel, weel," said the minister; "come oot as sune as ye can, Jenny."

And he again slippit awa.

Thinkin, now, that he couldna carry the joke farther wi' safety, as there was great risk o' the real David appearin, the minister slippit into the house, threw aff his plaid, and went to a little back window that was immediately over the kitchen ane, from which he could, by a little cautious management, both see and overhear, un.o.bserved, all that should pa.s.s between Jenny and her lover, when _he_ came on the stage.

Nor had he to wait long for this. In a few minutes after he had taken his station, he saw David come round the corner o' the house, and steal, wi' cautious steps, towards the kitchen-window. He rapped. The window was raised, but evidently wi' some impatience.

"Gude bless me, Davie! are ye there again already?" said Jenny, somewhat testily. "Dear me, man, can ye no hae patience a bit? I'll come to ye immediately." And, without waitin for ony answer, she again banged doun the window.

David was confounded at this treatment; but, as Jenny had gien him nae time to mak ony remark for her edification, he made ane or twa for his ain.

"Here _again_!" he said, mutterin to himself--"here _already_! Can I no hae patience!" Then, after a pause, "What does the woman mean? What _can_ she mean?"

This was a question, however, which Jenny hersel only could explain; and for this explanation David had to wait wi' what patience he could conveniently spare. But he certainly hadna to tarry lang; for, in twa or three minutes after, a soft, low voice was heard sayin--

"Whar are ye, David?"

"Here," quoth David, in the same cautious voice.

"Dear me, man," said Jenny, "what was a' yer hurry? I'm sure ae rap at the window was as guid as twenty. Ye micht hae been sure I wad come to ye as sune as I could."

"Hurry, Jenny! What do ye mean? I was only ance at the window," replied David. "Ye surely canna ca' that impatience."

"Ye're fou, Davie; that's plain," said Jenny. "The bottle o' ale has gane to your head, and ye've forgotten. Nae wonder; it wasna sma' beer, I warrant ye, but real double stoot. Catch the minister drinkin onything else! Thae black-coats ken what's guid for them." And, without waitin for ony answer, she proceeded--"But whar hae ye left the basket, Davie?

Is't in the barn?"

"Jenny," said David, now perfectly bewildered by all this, to him, wholly incomprehensible ravin, "ye say I'm fou; but, if I'm no greatly mistaen, ye're the fouest o' the twa." And he peered into her face, to see how far appearances would confirm his conjectures.

"Awa wi' ye, ye stupid gowk!" said Jenny, pus.h.i.+n him good-naturedly from her. "Ye're just as fou's the Baltic--that's plain. But tell me, man, whar ye put the basket; for it may be missed? I houp ye haena forgotten that tae?"

"Jenny," replied David, now somewhat mair sincerely, "will ye tell me at ance what ye mean? What bottles o' ale and baskets are ye speakin aboot?"

"Ha! ha! Like as ye dinna ken!" said Jenny, lookin archly, and giein her lover anither push. "That's a guid ane! To drink my ale, and eat my bread and cheese, and then deny it!"

I leave you, guid freends (said the narrator here), to conjecture what were David's feelins, and to conceive what were his looks, while Jenny was thus chargin him wi' ingrat.i.tude. I'll no attempt a description o'

them. A' this time the minister was lookin owre his window, richt abune the lovers, and heard every word o' what they said; but he keepit quiet till the argument should come to a crisis. In the meantime the conversation between the lovers proceeded.

"Jenny," said David, in reply to her last remark, "ye're either daft or fou--and that's the end o't. Sae let us speak aboot something else if ye can."

"Do ye mean to say, David," replied Jenny--now getting somewhat serious too, and a little surprised, in her turn, at seein the perfect composure o' her lover, and the utter unconsciousness expressed on his countenance--"do ye mean to say that I didna gie ye a bottle o' ale and a basket o' bread and cheese oot o' the window there, aboot a quarter-o'-an-hour syne?"

"Never saw them, nor heard o' them," replied David, with great coolness.

"Ta! nonsense, man!" said Jenny, with impatient credulity. "And did ye no come and seek anither? and did ye no come three or four times to the window?"

"Naething o' the kind," replied David, briefly, but with the same calmness and composure as before. "I never got a bottle o' ale and a basket o' bread frae ye oot o' that window; I never sought anither frae ye; and I hae been only ance at that window this blessed nicht."

There was nae resistin belief to a disclaimer sae coolly, sae calmly, and sae pointedly made; and Jenny acknowledged this by immediately exclaimin, in the utmost dismay and alarm--

"Lord preserve me, then! wha was't that got them, and whar are they?"

Her queries were instantly answered.

"It was _me_ that got them, Jenny; and they're owre in yon corner yonder," said the minister, in a loud whisper, and now thrustin his head oot o' the window.

Jenny looked up for an instant in horror, uttered a loud scream, and fled. David looked up, too, for a second, and then set after her as fast as he could birr; leavin the facetious, but worthy minister in convulsions o' laughter.

"And that, my freends," here said the merry landlord, "is the story o'

the minister o' Kirkfodden and his servant la.s.s, as tauld to me by my guid freend, Andrew, here"--laying his hand kindly on the shoulder of the person he alluded to. The narrator was rewarded for his story, or rather for his manner of telling it--for in this art he excelled--by a continued roar of laughter from his auditory. When this had subsided--

"Come now," he said, "put in yer gla.s.ses. The best story's no the waur o' a weetin. It looks as weel again through a gla.s.s o' toddy."

The invitation thus humorously given was at once obeyed. In a twinkling a circle of empty gla.s.ses, like a _garde du corps_, surrounded the bowl, and were soon replenished, with a dexterity and skill which long practice alone could have given the artist. His well-practised hand and arm skimmed the ponderous vessel as lightly over the gla.s.ses as if it had been a cream-pot; filling each of the latter as it went along to exactly the same height--not a drop in or over--with a precision that was truly beautiful to behold.