Just Jemima/Chapter 11

WAS that astonished I couldna say a word. I jist pushed past him and ran into ma room, and bolted the door, and sat doon on ma faithful box. Possibly I done a short weep. I was angry, but no' as angry as I wanted to be. Maybe I had used up the maist o' ma anger against the Pabbity man. A' the same, I was greatly displeased wi' Frederick. I had never thought he would dae sich a thing. Once I had a sort o' dream that he had done it, but I was never a believer in dreams; at least, ma fayther says dreams is a' nonsense, except them in the Bible.

Ay, I was seriously offended wi' Frederick, and I made up ma mind to let him see it.

But I got little time for ma gloomy reflections. Cook cam' and said there was tea to be took up to the green room. I took it up, wishin' it was cod liver ile.

Mrs. Pabbity opened the door, and I heard Mr. Pabbity, which was lookin' oot o' the window, sayin' it was worth a long journey to get sich fine air and sich a glorious view.

"Come in," says Mrs. Pabbity, and her voice was soft, and she didna look as nippit-like as when I seen her first. "Would you mind telling me your name?" she says, when I had set doon the tray and was for retirin'.

"Jemima, mem," I says as respectful as I could, for Mrs. Parkins's sake.

"And was it you, Jemima, who made the room so beautiful with flowers?"

I was that took aback I could only nod ma head.

"William," says she, "it is just as I guessed."

Then Mr. Pabbity turned and says:—

"Sorry if I hurt your feelings, Jemima. It was nice of you to think of the flowers, but they agree best with me when they are growing outside. Still, we are obliged to you all the same."

And afore I kent it, there was two half-crowns in ma hand, and Mrs. Pabbity was askin' questions aboot Westerbay like clockwork.

I got oot o' the room, wishin' it was possible to kick masel' wi' both feet spontaneously. Oh, me! I doubt I'll never ha'e ma fayther's wisdom that winna judge folk by their ootsides. Hoo true it is that a face like a cookin' fig may conceal a heart as lovely as a three-and-sixpenny peach!

In the kitchen, a wee while later, I suddenly bursted into song.

"Stop it!" cries cook. "Ye've made me singe the white sauce."

"Never heed!" says I. "See what I got frae Mr. Pabbity! And you're to tak' one o' them."

It was really an impulsiveness on ma part, though I had felt vexed for her ever since her disappintment ower the umbrella.

"Five shillings!" she exclaims, "and he hasna been half an hour in the hoose! What for did he send me half-a-crown, lassie? What did he say?"

"Weel," says I, "seein' his bride was there he couldna exactly send it wi' fondest love—jist for luck, I suppose."

She gi'ed me a look, then turned her back and started weepin' into the sauce.

"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" she says. "Ye've heaped fire and brimstone on ma head, Jemima! For I ken the money was never intended for me, and the sauce was singed afore ever ye let oot a squeak."

"What's the odds," says I. "Tak' your share, or I'll put it doon your back!"

"Na, na, dearie," she says, facin' me, "keep what's your own, and put it into War Savin's, and I'll still ha'e your kind thought. I'm auld enough to ken the value of money to young folk; but to me it's jist dross—filthy dross!" she cries, wi' a great wave o' the pan.

And splash gaed the sauce ower the face o' the auld grahdfayther clock!

We sat doon and laughed like to end oorsel's.

As ma fayther—or Soloman—says, it's but a step frae the ridiculous to the supreme. At ony rate, it done cook guid, and she was cheery for the rest o' the afternoon, and the dinner was first class—even the Colonel didna try to bite his wife's nose off when she said the fish puddin' was delicious.

Durin' dinner I never let Frederick catch ma eye, and afterwards I left him to clear the tables hissel'. I gaed into the kitchen and says:—

"Cooky, I've an awfu' big favour to ask ye."

"Say it," says she.

"It's a heap to ask, but could ye think to dae ma share o' the dishes? I dinna feel up to it."

"Are ye no' weel, dearie?" says she as kind as kind. "Of course I'll dae the washin' up, and onything else ye like. Sit doon and ha'e your supper, and then ye'll gang straight to yer bed."

I was hungry enough, but I hadna the face to eat.

"I'll gang to ma room," I says, "and maybe I'll feel abler later on."

And I gaed and sat doon on ma faithful box, and wondered hoo Frederick would like the cook's comp'ny instead o' mines.

But the time was terrible slow in passin'. I thought Frederick would never come to his supper, and then I thought him and cook would never finish eatin'; and' a' the time I kept gettin' hungrier and hungrier. At long last I heard them gang into the scullery for to wash up, and I says to masel':—

"Noo I'll slip along to the kitchen and nab something to eat."

I was turnin' the handle of ma door like a burglar when I heard a knock at the back door, so I waited till the coast would be clear. After a long while I heard cook openin' the door, and then I heard:—

"Guid evenin'. Can I see Miss Just?"

Merciless Powers! It was the porter!

Then cook says:

"Ye canna see her the night, young man. I doubt she's sickenin' for the Turkish Flue. Has she never let ye ken aboot the umbrella?"

"Ay," says he, for I had sent him a postcard tellin' him to leave it in the lounge next time. "Ay," he says, vera slow, "but it's no' the umbrella I want to see her aboot."

"Aweel," says cook, "it doesna matter what it is, for ye canna see her. She was able for neither her work nor her meat, and I expect she's in bed by noo. I'm gaun to gi'e her a pig to her feet and a pint o' double strong cocoa, and if that doesna sort her, I'll ha'e to get the mistress to her. It doesna dae to trifle wi' the flue."

I thought she would haver for ever, and he would be dumb for ditto, but at last he coughs and says:—

"Would ye tak' her a message?"

"If she's no' in a ragin' fever," says cook.

"Tell her I'm unco vexed to hear aboot her low state," says he, stammerin' a bit, "and if she recovers, she'll find me at the usual place, at the usual time."

"Weel," says cook, important-like, "if she's no' abnormally temperate, she'll get your message, young man. Guidnicht." And she shut the door.

I could ha'e tore ma haur. A pint o' cocoa, and Frederick hearin' every word! Oh, me! I was that hungry and angry, I wished I was hame.

After a long time I got up courage again to try and get some food, but jist when I was aboot to start, I heard cook and Frederick back in the kitchen. If Frederick hadna been there I would ha'e gaed ben and said I was better, but I couldna face him. I was wonderin' what Mrs. Parkins would say if I gi'ed up ma place, when there was a wee tap at the door.

I opened it an inch and kept behind it. Mercy! it was Frederick which spoke.

"Are you feelin' ony better, Jemima?" says he.

"I'm nae worse," says I short-like.

"Cook's busy makin' your cocoa," he says.

I didna reply.

"Jemima," says he, "I've got something to tell ye."

"Ye can keep your apologies," says I.

"I had nae intention o' apologisin'," he says, in his quiet way, "though I'm surely sorry to ha'e angered ye. But I couldna help masel', Jemima. Ye looked as if ye had been near to greetin', and ye was that rosy and bonny"

"Behave yoursel'!" says I.

"But that's no' what I wanted to tell ye."

I canna think what made me so ill-tempered, but I told him flat I didna want to hear ony thing.

He gi'ed a sigh.

"I'll ask a question, then," he says. "Are ye gaun to meet that porter chap on Sunday?"

"That's ma affair," I says, and shut the door.

"I hope ye'll be better in the mornin'," I heard him say, and then he gaed hame.

After that I couldna stick ma ain company. I gaed ben to the kitchen and said I was able for onything.

Cook seemed a wee thing disappinted; she would like to ha'e doctored me, I think.

"I've turned doon the beds, so there's naething for ye to dae up the stairs," she says, "and here's your cocoa—double strong and extra sweet."

I thanked her as best I could.

"Could ye eat onything?" she speirs, after what seemed ages.

"Maybe, if I was tempted," I replies. At that she smiled.

"Wait!" she whispers, and, wi' her finger to her lips, she gaed frae the kitchen as if she was walkin' on eggs. Soon she cam' back wi' a wee parcel and opened it for me to see.

"Cheese!" I nearly yells, for the hoose hadna seen cheese for a month.

"Whisht!" she says. "If the boarders got wind o' this, they would raid the kitchen! It cam' frae ma sister that's workin' on a farm. Shut the door, lassie, and open the window, and you and me'll ha'e it toasted. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I ha'e few pleasures left, but a bit toasted cheese is one o' them. The smell aye minds me o' an aunt that might ha'e left me her siller, but didna."

"Cheer up!" says I; "ye're no' that aged. Maybe the cheese'll cause ye to dream o' somebody nicer nor an aunt to-night. It's awfu' kind o' ye to share it."

"Oh, dinna praise me!" she cries. "I maun confess I had intended for to devour it in secret, in ma bed. But I like ye, lassie, and ye're welcome," and she cam' ower and gi'ed me a hug.

I was that touched I couldna say onything, but I vowed I would buy her something wi' the half-crown.

Somehow I didna enjoy the toasted cheese as much as I expected. I gaed to ma bed early, and wished I hadna. I tried to think o' Mr. Shark and Miss Tinto, o' Mr. and Mrs. Pabbity, o' the porter, even; but they a' slipped through ma mind like broken eggs through a basket. I tried countin' to a thousand, and imagined I was a horse breathin' hard on a frosty day. I said ma prayers twice, the second time includin' the porter, and a P.S. for Frederick—but it made nae difference.

Still, I believe I would ha'e drapped off aboot 11 if cook, passin' to her bed, hadna opened ma door and speired if I was sleepin'.

"Jist aboot it," says I.

"I forgot to ask' ye," says she, "if ye heard the news aboot Frederick."

"What news?" says I.

"Aweel," she says, "if he hasna told ye, I'd better no' say onything aboot it. Guidnicht, dearie."

Though she had been kind to me, I could ha'e rose and kicked her then.

Oh, what a night!