Just Jemima/Chapter 8

OR aboot a week in July there was a heat wave at Westerbay, which naebody enjoyed except the Colonel and the cook, but after that the weather seemed every day to get caulder and caulder, till everybody was complainin'. The nights was especially refrigeratin', and the Colonel could speak o' naething at breakfast but this vile Scotch climate. Mrs. Pagan, though she had plenty o' fat, would shudder like a naspen [sic] leaf every time a door was opened. Miss Tinto catched a cauld in her head, and twa days later Mr. Shark catched a ditto, which made me feel mair hopeful for their future happiness, and wonder when and where the chased salute had took place.

Ye're no' to imagine that Mrs. Parkins grudged the blankets, but unfortunately a' the spare ones was awa' at the washin', and there was a strike on at the laundry. Troubles never comes single, and if ye get off wi' twa at a time ye're gey lucky.

"Oh, this will never do," she cries one mornin' when we cam' on a great big button in Mr. Shark's bed.

"High time he was gettin' wed, when his buttons is drappin' off like that," I remarks.

"Be quiet," says she. "Don't you see that he has been sleeping in his ulster?"

"As long as he doesna tear up the carpet, I dinna see hoo we can interfere, mem," says I.

But she had nae use for fun that mornin'. A' at once she says:—

"Have you seen the pigs since you came, Jemima?"

"No, mem," I answers, "nor heard them, either."

"Then in case I should forget, I'll show you at once where to find them. Come along," says she, and took me doonstairs to the pantry.

There she opened a wee door that I had thought was locked.

My! Ye never seen onything so tasty—a row o' big-sized hot-water bottles, each wi' a braw flannel coat; blue, pink, rolled-gold, and so on! The colours, she explained, was to show the bedrooms the pigs belonged to. I couldna help expressin' ma admiration.

"To-night, between nine-thirty and ten," she says, "you must provide one for each guest. Tell cook, in good time, to have plenty of boiling water ready."

"Depend on me, mem," says I. "Dae ye want me to gi'e the guests a hint aboot the joys in store for them? I could easy whisper it when I'm serving the macaroni.

"Certainly not!" says she. "Weel, weel, maybe ye're right, mem. It'll be a pleasant surprise—pigs in the middle of July!"

"That will do. Run away now and finish your work upstairs."

I respectfully sloped.

When next I entered the pantry, the cook was there, glowerin' at the pigs and groanin' to hersel'.

"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" she says. "What rapture to be lyin' in bed surrounded by them a'!"

I told her Mrs. Parkins's orders.

"So ye canna ha'e your rapture to-night," I says. "But are nae pigs provided for us ones?" I speirs.

"Only twa."

"Weel, I'll be content wi' half o' that," I says.

"Oh, lassie," she says, "ma circulation's that bad, I've been usin' the twa since ever I cam' here! Could ye no' do without?"

"Ye're a greedy thing!" I tells her, "Come on—fair divide!"

"Aw," says she, "a young strong lass like you doesna need a pig. It'll warm ye jist to think hoo cosy your kindness is makin' me, eh?"

"Na, na. I'll tak' ma ration, thank ye," I says.

"I'll tell ye what I'll dae," she says, after thinkin' a while. "I'll gi'e ye an extra cup o' cocoa, double strong, to-night, if ye'll let me keep the twa."

"Oh, I'm fed up wi' cocoa," I says languidly, like the love-sick girl in the story I was readin', when her intended (which she hated) brought her a diamond necklace.

At that cook gaed awa' in a huff, but afterwards she cam' and offered me sixpence for the use o' ma pig.

"Per night," says I.

"What?" says she.

"Payable in advance," says I. "I'll accept three shillin's for the week."

She gaed awa' again and didna speak to me for the rest o' the day.

She made an awfu' mess o' the dinner that night, and fair affronted Mrs. Parkins. The soup, which the programme said was "Bohemian Cream," or something like that, was luke-warm and the colour o' clay, and the Colonel said he preferred biled sawdust. The filleted fish wasna half fried and was fu' o' banes, and the sauce that should ha'e gaed wi' it was singed and as thick and sticky as gundy. It wasna a meatless day, worse luck, as the Colonel remarked, and the beef and turnips was underdone; but the potatoes was guid, only there wasna enough o' them. She seemed to ha'e forgot to stir the puddin', for Mr. Parkins hissel' got a moothfu' o' cloves, which caused him to choke, and he had to dae a bunk frae the room.

Mrs. Pagan kept on makin' faces and mutterin' "horrible, disgraceful!" but she got ootside her rations without fail, and as soon as she was finished she made tracks for the drawin'-room and nabbed the biggest chair nearest the fire. As for Mr. Shark and Miss Tinto, they was that bad wi' the cauld, I dinna suppose they could ha'e tasted ony difference betwixt cinders and soap-suds. As ma fayther would say: "Hoo often dae we discover blessings in oor afflictions."

A' the same, they looked unco miserable, and their coughin' and sneezin' was terrible to hear. The Colonel kept tellin' them they had catched the Turkish Influenza for certain. I could ha'e cuffed the auld blighter's ears to him—I could that! And they was that brave, puir things, tryin' to look as if they was quite happy. But their smiles near made ma heart bleed; they reminded me o' sour apples and raw onions mixed wi' ammonicated quinine—the stuff ye tak' for to check a cauld in the head when it's ower late. Oh, I was vexed for the semi-devoted pair, and I wished Mrs. Parkins had let me drap a hint concernin' the pigs. I was that sure it would comfort them, I couldna get the notion oot o' ma mind.

I fully expected that Mrs. Parkins would gi'e the cook warnin' after dinner, but she didna. Only she made the coffee hersel', and I served it in the Lounge, which was jist the front hall wi' a wee room added on. I forgot to say that Frederick had got the day off—I couldna help wonderin' what for—so I couldna consult him aboot the pigs.

Mr. Shark and Miss Tinto was sittin' by theirsel's, him toyin' wi' a cigarette, and her tryin' in vain to smell a red rose, which I trusted was a gauge o' love. When I presented them wi' their coffees, I simply couldna keep the joyful news to masel', and I whispers to them both, respectfullike:—

"Keep up yer hearts. Ye're gaun to get pigs in your beds this night!"

I didna wait to see the effect o' ma words, except that Mr. Shark dropped his cigarette into his coffee, and Miss Tinto let oot a wee quack, but I felt they would ha'e one cheery subject to talk aboot for the rest o' the evenin'!

Ah, me! If I could only ha'e foreseen what was comin'!

The cook was still huffy and wouldna help me, so it was late afore I was through wi' the washin' up. I suppose the gentry never thinks to coont up the number o' dishes they dirty in a day. At "Seaview" me and Frederick worked it oot at twinty-eight dishes, wi' twinty-six knives, forks and spoons per fathead, and that was leavin' oot what ye might call the public dishes, sich as tureens, ashets, etc.

When I got back to the kitchen, the cook was at the fireside, waitin' for the three kettles to bile and cryin' like fun. It seemed she had a conscience, after a'.

"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" she cries. "I disgraced masel' ower that dinner the night, and 1'll never feel the same again."

"Cheer up!" says I, for I couldna but be vexed for her. "It was jist a side slip. Ye'll gi'e us an extra fine dinner the morn's night, cooky, eh? "

"If I'm spared," she groans.

"Oh, ye'll no' likely be come for afore then," says I.

"I'll maybe perish wi' the cauld," says she, wi' her apron to her tears.

"Ye'll no' die that either," I tells her, "for ye can ha'e both the pigs, and welcome. I was jokin' afore."

At that she jamp up and hugged me.

"Heaven'll reward ye," she says. "And I hope ye'll excuse me for ha'ein' them both in ma bed at this vera instant, but, of course, I intended for to"

"That's a' right," says I, bein' ower sleepy to listen to a long story. "Come on, and we'll get ready the lodgers' lot."

The same lot was standin' on the table, a' in their braw wee coats.

"We'll tak' off the jaykets noo, and turn them inside oot," says she, "and they can be toastin' till the pigs is filled."

It wasna till we had stripped the lot that we noticed a queer thing. Every pig was wantin' a stopper. We got the others frae the press, and they was ditto.

"I'll ha'e to see Mrs. Parkins aboot this," I says, and in a wee while I had her in the kitchen.

She was dumbfoundered. I was turnin' the coats inside oot when I cam' on a piece o' writin'. It said:—

"I told you I would have revenge."

Mrs. Parkins turned red when she seen it.

"That wicked girl I had to dismiss in the spring," she says to hersel', and I thought she was gaun to flare up, but she jist hove a sigh and remarks, "Corks."

But there wasna a cork in the hoose that would fit.

"It's absolutely necessary," she says, that Mr. Shard and Miss Tinto have bottles to-night. They have fearful colds. Get me the two bottles belonging to the kitchen."

Ye could ha'e heard a safety pin drap.

"Come, Jemima," she says, "waken up and fetch them quickly."

Then the cook done what I thought was a noble deed.

"I'll fetch them, mem," she says, "though they happen at this vera instant to be warmin' ma own bed." And withoot waitin' for a reply she gaed and fetched them.

"I'm sorry to deprive you," says Mrs. Parkins, as if she was tryin' to forget the rotten dinner. Then she turned to me, saying: "Get them filled and put in the beds as soon as possible, Jemima."

I was greatly relieved at bein' able to keep ma promise to the unfortunate pair. What a disappintment if they had gaed joyful to their beds and found them pigless, after a'! I could never ha'e looked at them in the faces again.

I was gettin' into ma own bed, half an hour later, when I minded I had left ma alarum clock in the kitchen for to put it at the right time. So far frae willingly I slipped oot o' ma room and gaed softly along the passage. To ma surprise, there was a light in the kitchen. The door was near shut, but I could see in.

And there was the cook smilin' like fun—busy screwin' the stoppers into seven steamin' pigs.

Upon ma sam, I couldna help thinkin' she deserved her rapture.