Pall Mall/'Johnny'

ROM the shabby old easy-chair by the hearth the elderly man glanced round the untidy room which served him for kitchen, parlour, and bed-chamber.

"Johnny," he exclaimed suddenly, "did ye ever see sic a pigsty o' a hoose?"

Johnny sat up on the ragged hearth-rug, put his ears to attention, and gazed at his master inquiringly, as much as to say, "Did you happen to address me, sir?" Mr. Gunn stroked the dog's head for several seconds, and continued:

"The wey that females tak' advantage o' a single man is something atrocious! Ye wud think it was a conspeeracy to drive him into matrimony." And Mr. Gunn groaned.

Johnny, realising that things were serious, got upon his legs, laid his muzzle on his master's knee, gazed at his master's face with great sympathy, and wagged the stump of his tail.

"'Deed, ay, Johnny! That Mistress Leitch 'll drive us into matrimony afore she's done; butbut, by Jupiter! it'll no' be matrimony wi' her! Na!"

Johnny wagged his tail with extra emphasis.

"Mistress Leitch," went on Mr. Gunn, "'ll ha'e plenty to accoont for wi' yin husband at the day o' judgment. An' yet she's no' muckle waur nor the ither females that I've peyed to keep ma hoose clean. They seem to think I dinna notice things. They seem to think because I'm in the coal trade I dinna ken what cleanliness is. Och, ay! Onything's guid enough for you an' me, Johnny! That's what they think! … We've never had a female that did what she was peyed for since auld Mistress Christie. Ye mind Mistress Christie, Johnny? Eh? A dacent, honest wumman that couldna thole dirt o' ony description. She used to wash ye when ye was but a pup, Johnny. Ye didna like her for that, but she was aye kind to ye itherwise. Ye got nae kicks frae her. She never cast things at ye an' ca'ed ye names. Did she, Johnny?"

Johnny did his best to look intelligent.

"She never ett the biscuits I pit by in the press for ye. Did she?"

Johnny's eyes filled with real intelligence now; his tail wagged frantically, and he led the way to the cupboard in the corner.

Mr. Gunn, having procured a couple of biscuits, resumed his seat, and proceeded to feed his companion with square inches.

"Ay, ay," he sighed presently, "we baith lost a guid an' faithfu' freen' when puir Mistress Christie dee'd. I never expectit to see her like again, but I never expectit either that ony female that ca'ed hersel' a wumman wud ha'e the face to tak' a man's siller an' dae naethin' for it. Oh, I doot we'll ha'e to try an' get a wife, Johnny. I doot we wull. It's no' for the sake o' comp'ny, for you're guid enough comp'ny for ony man, but jist for the sake o' comfort. I was gaun to say peace and comfort, but we mauna expect everything. Nae doot a man, when he comes to ma time o' life, is the better o' a wife aboot the hoose."

He tossed the last fragment of biscuit to Johnny, and pulled out his old silver watch

"I'll tell ye what we'll dae," he said, after several minutes spent in deep consideration. "I'll gi'e ma face anither wash, an' then we'll tak' a walk along the road an' maybe gi'e Jean McPhedron a ca'. She was complainin' aboot the last coals she got, so that'll be an excuse for chappin at her door. … It maun be twinty year since I was inside her hoose, so she micht be a wee bit surprised if I was to ca' wi'oot some kin' o' reason. … She's the only likely female I can think o' the noo."

Half an hour later they set out for Miss McPhedron's cottage. It was a fine spring evening, and Daniel Gunn's shaven countenance, polished with much soap, shone freshly in the rays of the setting sun. Daniel didn't believe in a hairy face for any one in the coal trade. With Johnny bounding in front of him he passed through the village, saluting the inhabitants who happened to be out of doors. Fairport liked its coal merchant, though it found fault with his wares and asked him why he did not tell the truth and call himself a slate merchant. Long ago it had given up asking him why he lived alone in one room. It was true that he saved money, but not nearly so much as folk imagined; and once upon a time he had lent his all to a brother who had started business in town, and failed a few years later. And Fairport's annual coal-bill was not a large affair.

Outside the village Mr. Gunn, as was his habit, fell into talk with Johnny—who, to be sure, did not give the attention which his master's words deserved. Johnny's nine years had been fat and lenient ones; any experiences of severity had not come from his master.

What kind of dog was Johnny? Mr. Gunn said he was a good dog, but several experts had shaken their heads over his ancestry, and a summer visitor had once described him, much to the owner's irritation, as an assorted dog. "As if Johnny was a poke o' mixed sweeties!" Mr. Gunn had indignantly muttered. It may be mentioned, however, that Johnny was about the size of a Scotch collie, and some of him was the colour of an Irish terrier.

"Noo, Johnny," said Mr. Gunn solemnly, "ye'll ha'e to behave yersel' the nicht. If she bids us ben the hoose, ye're to be rale discreet, an' bide ablow ma chair a' the time. Ye mauna be streetchin' yersel' on the rug, nor snokin aboot the kitchen seekin' for meat. Mind that, Johnny, for Jean McPhedron 'll maybe be yer mistress some day. … Dod! but it's maist aggravatin' that a man canna get a clean hoose wi'oot matrimony!"

Ere long was reached the cottage wherein Miss McPhedron dwelt and carried on the business of laundress.

With some diffidence Mr. Gunn knocked at the door, which was speedily opened.

"It's a fine nicht, Miss McPhedron," began the coal merchant. In boyhood's days he had called her Jean, but his business had brought him to use the more formal address. "Johnny an' me was oot for a bit walk, an' I jist thocht I wud ca' an' tell ye that I'm gettin' in a boat o' vera fine coals next week, an' that I'll be pleased to exchange the yins ye said wasna as guid as usual."

"I never said they wasna as guid as usual," returned the spinster.

"Oh, I thocht ye did."

"Na; I said they was as bad as usual, Maister Gunn. But ye best come in an' tak' a sate for a wee," she added more graciously.

"Thenk ye," said Mr. Gunn, who was used to hearing his coals abused.

"Is that your dug?" she asked abruptly.

"Ay; it's jist Johnny, ye ken."

"He's a fearsome-lookin' beast. Dinna let him come near me. I dinna like dugs."

"Aw, ye wud shin get to like Johnny, Miss McPhedron. I'm no' gaun to boast aboot his pedigree, but he's a born gentleman."

"Aweel, ye micht tell him to wait ootside. I'm no' wantin' him in the hoose, if ye please."

Mr. Gunn experienced a slight chill of disappointment; but he mildly ordered Johnny to lie down on the doorstep, and followed Miss McPhedron into the house.

On the way home, about nine o'clock, he found it necessary to speak seriously to his companion. "I thocht ye wud ha'e behaved better, Johnny," he said. "It wasna nice o' ye to cry for me a' the time I was in the hoose. I thocht ye had mair sense. Ye jist affrontit me, scartin' at the door an' cryin' like a pup. That wasna the wey to mak' freen's wi' Miss McPhedron. An' hers is the cleanest an' tidiest kitchen I ever sat in! There's nae doot aboot it—she kens hoo to keep a hoose. I tell't her she wud shin get to like ye, Johnny; so ye mauna behave like a daft goat the next time, but like a dacent, weel-brocht-up dug. D'ye hear, Johnny?"

Johnny signified his appreciation of the lecture by gambolling about his master in the most light-hearted fashion.

When they reached home Mr. Gunn prepared Johnny's supper of bread, milk and sugar; then lit his pipe and sat down to meditate.

Johnny ate his supper, came to his master's knee for a caress or two, and fell into a doze on the hearthrug.

Presently he was roused by his master's voice. "Ye see, Johnny, it's a case o' twa evils," Mr. Gunn was softly saying: "dirt wi' freedom, or cleanliness wi'—wi' Aweel, I'm no' gaun to say onything agin Jean McPhedron. She had aye a temper. … But it's a peety she's got sic a soor face. An' she's got awfu' nippit-like the last twa-three years. May- be it's the washin' soda. But we'll think ower it, Johnny, we'll think ower it. We'll ca' again the morn's nicht, for I promised to let her ken the exact day the boat was comin' wi' the coals. So we'll jist think ower it, Johnny, and sleep ower it forbye."

Johnny wagged his stump agreeably, and finding that nothing further was just then required of him, laid his muzzle between his forepaws, and dozed once more.

The days passed, and it began to be whispered in Fairport that the coal-merchant was courting the laundress. Whereupon Mrs. Leitch gave notice, and Mr. Gunn could get no one else to take her place. The condition of his dwelling went from bad to worse. As a matter of fact, Mr. Gunn could not be quite sure whether or not he was courting the spinster. He called pretty frequently, but somehow there was always some business reason for doing so. Miss McPhedron had taken to ordering only one bag of coal at a time, and seemed to like giving her opinion on each bag before ordering another. She, however, had quite made up her mind that she was being courted, and by her manner encouraged rather than prevented gossip. Spinster from choice she had certainly never been, and while coal and laundressing at first seemed incongruous, she soon mentally decided that the two businesses were not altogether hopelessly apart.

So it came to pass that on a certain summer evening Mr. Gunn, sick of his own household disorder, made an offer of marriage, which was accepted as promptly as soon as the modesty of half a century would permit; and the wedding was fixed for the early autumn.

"She'll be lettin' ye in next time, Johnny," said Mr. Gunn hopefully to his companion, who had as usual been scratching and whining during his absence, as they went home together. "She'll shin get to like ye, but ye maun learn to behave better. Ye maun try to be freen's wi' her."

It would almost seem as if Johnny took the advice to heart, for two days later, in searching for his master, who had gone in the steamer to a neighbouring village, he arrived at the cottage of the laundress.

There he was greeted with an outburst of abuse for soiling her freshly pipe-clayed steps; and, as he took the abuse in good part and remained gambolling, he was treated to a lump of soap in the ribs and a bucket of cold water over him.

Result—when Mr. Gunn paid his next call at the cottage, Johnny snarled ferociously, while the spinster screamed, "I wish ye wud leave yer nesty dug at hame!"

Mr. Gunn endeavoured to make peace between his companion and his future wife, but without avail. The weeks passed, and the date of the marriage drew nigh, without sign of a reconciliation.

"I can assure ye," he said, as they sat in the laundress's kitchen one evening, a fortnight before the event which was now causing much interest in Fairport, "I can assure ye that Johnny's a gentleman. He's no' ill-tempered. If ye could jist be a wee bit kind to him, he wud shin come to like ye, Miss McPhedron." He had never been able to return to her Christian name. "Wull ye no' try?" he pleaded.

But Miss McPhedron was as granite. "I've tell't ye afore I canna thole dugs, an' your dug especially. It's a nesty, dirty, ill-natured beast."

Daniel swallowed his temper. "But," he said mildly, "ye maun try to like Johnny, when ye're gaun to bide in the same hoose as him. Eh?"

"I beg yer paurdon!" she exclaimed haughtily.

"I'm sayin' it wud be nicer if ye wud try to like Johnny, seein' yer gaun to bide in the same hoose as him."

"I'm no' gaun to bide in a kennel, thenk ye!" "Johnny never was in a kennel in his life," Mr. Gunn replied gently. "He's bided in the hoose since he was but a pup, an' he aye sleeps at the fit o' ma bed. Oh, I'm shair he wud be freen's wi' ye, if ye wud let him, Miss McPhedron."

But Miss McPhedron refused to continue the subject, and ere long Mr. Gunn set out for home, feeling somewhat dissatisfied.

"But I'll get her to like ye yet, Johnny," he said at last, as if Johnny had tender feelings in the matter. "Ay, ye'll be guid freen's afore lang," he added cheerfully.

The next day a busybody informed him that Miss McPhedron had been heard boasting of how she had treated the dog in the past, and of how she would treat it in the future if it tried to enter any house of which she was mistress.

Mr. Gunn called upon her that evening a little earlier than was his custom.

On a night in late October, Daniel Gunn and his dog sat by the hearth of the wretched kitchen.

"Johnny," said Daniel, as he refilled his pipe, "it's been a terrible time for us—a terrible time. Thank the Lord it's by. At least we'll hope it's by; but wha can tell when the tongues o' the folk here 'll stop yatterin'? Hooever, they'll jist ha'e to yatter till they're wearit, I suppose. They're jist as kind to me as they are to her, onywey. … But I'm rale gled we're done wi' the lawyers. Dod, ay! Ye sud be thenkfu' ye're no' a man, Johnny, to ha'e dealins wi' females an' lawyers. Whit think ye they've cost me, Johnny? Whit think ye I peyed yesterday to get masel' oot o' a breach o' promise case? Eh, Johnny? … Fifty pound to the female, an' near twinty to the lawyer. An' a' for you, Johnny—a' for you!"

Johnny wagged his tail violently, and looked towards the cupboard.

"Let naebody ever say again that ye're no' a valuable dug, Johnny," he went on with a wry smile. "Let naebody speak o' ye bein' an assortit dug. For ye've cost me near seeventy pound. It'll tak' a lot o' coals to mak' that guid; eh, Johnny? … But we mauna brood ower it. We maun distract wur minds to anither subject. A' day I've been thinkin' I wud ha'e a try at cleanin' the hoose masel'; an' I'll commence it noo. What was ye wantin', Johnny? Oh, yer biscuits! Fancy me forgettin' yer biscuits! That comes o' deal in' wi' females an' lawyers. Come awa', an' I'll get ye yer biscuits, an' then ye'll keep oot ma road when I'm trying to mak' things cleaner."

The feast over, Johnny placed his forepaws on his master's knees and pushed his undistinguished muzzle close to his master's face.

"Puir Johnny!" tenderly murmured Mr. Gunn, with a laugh. "Ye dinna ken what ye've cost me; but ye're a fine dug, an' I wudna pairt wi' ye for ony female. 'Deed, I wudna! … Near seeventy pound, Johnny, near seeventy pound,—but ye're worth it!"