Читать книгу Linmill Stories - Robert McLellan - Страница 8

THE STEADIN AT Linmill was ane ο the auld-farrant kind gaun back to the days whan fermers likit to hae aa their gear and stock safe at nicht ahint a lockit yett. The hoose and biggins lay in a square roun a cobblet closs, and save for the hoose front door there was nae wey in bune a wide entry in the middle ο the lang biggin on the sooth side ο the square. The rufe of this biggin ran its haill length, but the biggin itsell was dividit into twa ends, a stable and a byre, wi the entry atween, and the entry gat the name ο the closs mou. It was on the ootside ο the closs mou that the muckle yett stude, and it and the hoose front door were lockit ilka nicht by my grandfaither, drunk or sober, afore he gaed to bed.

The closs mou was a grand place for a bairn on a wat day, no juist for its rufe and the shelter it gied frae the rain, for the same wad hae been true ο the barn and the cairt sheds. The barn could be desertit for weeks, though, and the cairt sheds, save by the hens, for days, but the closs mou, gin there was ony wark daein aboot the ferm at aa, gat aye its share ο the steer.

No, mind ye, that it wasna a grand place ein on the Saubbath, whan aa wark was sinfou and the closs lay as still as daith, and if there was eir a luckie Saubbath whan it was ower wat to gang to the kirk, though sic came but seldom, it was aye to the closs mou that I gaed to play. For if I wantit to be by my lane, and I did aye on the Saubbath, wi the auld folk sae frichtenin in their black claes. I climmed up the closs mou lether to ane or ither ο the hey-lafts.

The hey-lafts lay aneth the rufe abune the stable and the byre, their doors facin ane anither heich in the closs mou waas, and gin ye werena forkin in hey aff a load on the cairt whan the parks were bein mawn in the simmer, ye had to sclim to the doors by a lang lether, keepit by the yett for that very job.

Aye on a wat Saubbath I sclimmed that lether.

It didna look a bad sclim frae the grun, but by the time ye were hauf wey to the tap ye began to trummle at the knees and woner if the lether wuid was soond, for ye could feel it bendin aneth yer wecht, and ye felt faur frae safe. But efter takin fricht ance or twice, and comin back doun wi my tail atween my legs, I syne ae day managed, and efter that haurdly gied the sclim a thocht.

Ae wat Saubbath in strawberry time, whan the berry-pickers in the barn bothy were sleepin aff their last nicht’s dram, and my grannie and grandfaither were noddin in their chairs by the fire in the fermhoose paurlor, I sclimmed to the laft abune the stable to sit on the hey aneth the skylicht and look doun on the fields ootbye. Ye gat a grand view frae the hey-laft skylichts, and in strawberry time it was fun to watch the daft men frichtening the craws aff the berry beds, for though the feck ο folk had to rest on the Saubbath, the daft men didna. Denner-Time Davie, the pairish meenister, didna seem to think the daft men maittert.

The skylicht in the stable hey-laft lookit ower ae field that lay in the corner whaur the Clyde road met the road frae Lesmahagow. There were big new strawberries in that field caaed Scarlet Queens, and the first crap was ready for the pouin. Daft Sanny had been sent to keep the craws aff it, and there he was, wi a parritch spurtle in ae haund an a tin tray in the ither, walkin up and doun the beds and clatterin for aa he was worth. He was haein a sair time ο it, though, for there was a raw ο beeches aside the Clyde road, and as sune as he scared the craws aff the near end ο the field, anither lot wad flee aff the beeches and land on the faur ane.

There was a wind blawin doun aff the upland ferms that lay abune Tam ο Law’s, and whan Daft Sanny was at the faur end ο the field I could haurdly hear the spurtle on the tray, for the wind took the soond awa to Clyde. And ance, when he gaed faurer ower nor ordinar, richt into the corner at the Lesmahagow road-end, I lost the soond ο the spurtle athegither.

It was then I heard a new soond close at haund. It seemed to come frae somewhaur inbye, amang the hey in the corner ο the laft abune the loose-box, I wadit through the hey to the corner to see whit was whaat.

I cam on a nest ο wee kittlins, pewlin for their minnie.

The puir wee things had haurdly ony hair, and were as blin as bats. They seemed to feel the cauld withoot their minnie, for they gaed borin into ane anither, ilka ane tryin to win to the middle, whaur it was warmest. But as sune as ane had gotten whaur it wantit the ithers on the ootside stertit to fecht their wey in again, sae there was nae rest for ony. The haill kittle keepit on the steer, like kail on the beyl, mewin and mewkin, and shovin wi their tottery hin legs.

I pat doun my haund and gied ane ο them a bit clap, and gat the fricht o my life, for it hissed at me like a wild thing. But I couldna blame the bit craitur, for wi no being able to see it nae dout couldna ken I was juist a wee laddie and didna ettle ony ill. I micht hae been ony body.

I sat watchin for a gey while, faer taen on wi them. Then I thocht that if I gaed to my grannie she micht gie me ane to be my very ain, and I could keep it by itsell in a warm box in the dairy, and feed it wi cream frae a saucer.

I gaed doun the closs mou lether like a streik of lichtnin, and ran for the hoose.

I creepit into the parlour wi the sort ο awed feelin that ye aye hae in a kirk. In the kirk it comes frae the picturs in the winnocks, that keep oot the licht, but in my grannie’s paurlor at Linmill there were white lace curtains that lat the licht through, sae it maun hae come frae the stourie smell ο the horse-hair chairs, the very smell itself ο kirk pew cushions.

My grannie and grandfaither were at their noddin yet, and my grannie was snorin.

I stude for a while feart to wauken her, and had a lang look roun, and the mair I lookit the mair awed I grew, and in the end I made up my mind to wait till the mornin, the room was sae awesome.

It was the stuffed weasel in the gless case abune the kist ο drawers, glowerin at the stuffed rabbit.

But the fire settlet in the grate, and a muckle reid eizle fell oot on the fender, and my grannie opened her een.

She lowpit for the eizle wi the muckle tangs, and syne turnt to me.

‘I thocht ye were gaun to play ootbye, Rab?’

‘Oh Grannie, I fand a nest ο wee kittlins in the stable hey-laft.’

‘Kittlins! Mercy me, we’ll sune hae that mony cats aboot the ferm we’ll need anither cou to gie them aa milk. I’ll hae to get Daft Sanny to tak them to Clyde the morn, and throw them ower Stanebyres Linn.’

‘But I wantit ane for my very ain.’

‘We hae ower mony cats already, I tell ye. Awa ootbye and play.’

I wad hae argied wi her, for aa she was sae crabbit, but my grandfaither opened his een and gied a growl like a chained dug.

‘What’s aa the steer? Can ye no let a body hae a sleep in peace? Awa ootbye, Rab, and dinna come near the hoose again till tea-time.’

I thocht I had better gang.

I gaed awa back to the stable hey-laft to hae anither look at the kittlins, but their minnie was back, and she wadna let me see them. She airched her back and stuck her tail up straucht and hissed at me wi her mou wide open and her lang teeth bare, till I was feart to gang near. My feelins were hurt a wee, to tell the truith, for she was a cat that I had aye pettit, and fed whiles wi cream; a big black and white ane by the name ο Moussie, and I was grieved that she suld think I could ettle her ony hairm.

I gaed back to the hey aneth the skylicht and lay doun to think.

I made up my mind that if my grannie had the kittlins drount I wad leave Linmill at ance and gang back to my minnie. I wadna spend a holiday in her hoose again.

At tea-time the kittlins werena mentioned, and aa at ance I grew cheerie, for I jaloused they were forgotten. I thocht then that if I said naething aa micht yet be weill, and wi luck the kittlins micht hae time to growe up, and take to the orchards, afore the aulder folk fand them oot.

I had forgotten Johnnie Kirkhope, whiles caaed Hide-the-Pea, the lazy ane amang the daft men.

Johnnie had a weill kent habit ο stealin aff at orra times for a bit rest in some quait pairt ο the ferm. He wad bide for hours in the shunkie, or doze awa a haill efternune aneth an aipple tree in a thick pairt ο ane or ither ο the orchards, but whiles it was to some quait corner ο the steadin itsell, like the stable loose-box or the byre beyler-hoose, that he gaed for his bit sleep. And as luck wad hae it, no lang efter I fand the kittlins he took to the stable hey-laft.

I had sclimmed the lether wi some cream in a jeelie-jaur, for I had taen to feeding Moussie at the hey-laft door, whan I heard my grandfaither caain for Hide-the-Pea. And juist as I was poorin the cream in Moussie’s saucer, and wonerin what wey she didna come forrit to my caa, wha suld rise oot ο the hey fornent the kittlins’ nest but Hide-the-Pea himsell.

He passed me and stertit to gang doun the lether, and my grandfaither saw him and stertit to flyte.

‘Ay, come doun, ye lazy deil. What were ye daein up there?’

‘I was daein a bit job for the Mither.’

The daft men aye caaed my grannie the Mither.

‘And what job were ye daein this time? Haein a guid sleep?’

‘I was lookin for a nest ο kittlins. The Mither likes to hae them aa drount.’

‘Did she ask ye to look for the kittlins?’

‘Na, but I thocht I heard them, and gaed up to look.’

‘Did ye fin them?’

‘Ay.’

‘Tell Daft Sanny, then. It’s his job to droun aa the kittlins. Did I no tell ye to frichten craws in the field at the Kirkfieldbank road-end?’

‘Ay.’

‘Awa and dae it, then, or ye’ll get nae supper the nicht.’

I ran ower to my grandfaither as Johnnie turnt awa.

‘Grandfaither, I want to keep ane ο the kittlins for my very ain.’

‘Awa wi ye. I’m thrang. Ask yer grannie.’

It was aye the same. I had to ask my grannie. And I aye kent what she wad say afore I gaed near her.

She was ben in the daft men’s bedroom at the faur end ο the hoose, tit-tittin awa to hersell aboot the dottles ane ο them had been knockin oot on the fire-end. She keepit the place like a new preen, and the dottles were aa that was needit to speyl her temper. I kent afore I stertit that it was haurdly worth my while to speir aboot my kittlin, but she had seen me come ben, and I had to gang on wi it.

Shair eneugh, I was wastin my time.

‘Na na,’ she said, ‘nae mair cats.’

‘But it’s a kittlin I want. Just a wee kittlin.’

‘Hou lang wad it bide a wee kittlin? And ye wad turn tired ο it in a day or twa. What did ye dae wi the rabbits yer grandfaither gat for ye? Fed them for a day or twa and then negleckit them athegither. They were aa deid a stervation when Daft Sanny gaed to clean oot the hutch. And nou ye want a wee kittlin. Na na, nae mair ο yer pets. The rabbits were the last.’

It wasna true that I had negleckit the rabbits, though it was true that they had aa deed. They were young anes howkit oot ο their hole, and taen awa frae their minnie, and I had been telt to feed them on oatmeal and tea leaves, whan they needit their minnie’s milk; sae it wasna my faut that they had deed. The kittlins wad hae been different athegither, for aabody kens that kittlins like cream, but the mention ο the rabbits had made me miserable, and I hadna the hairt to argie. I gaed awa and grat in the front orchard, aside the greengage tree, and syne stertit pouin sulphur grosets.

The neist mornin, juist efter brekfast, Daft Sanny took the road for the wall yett cairryin a tattie bag, and my hairt was like leid, for weill I kent the kittlins were in it.

My grannie caaed after him frae the hoose front door.

‘See and tie a big stane to the mou ο the poke, and pitch it weill oot ower the watter.’

‘Ay.’

‘And stane that cat if it tries to follow ye. Inside, Rab.’

I gaed awa inbye to the kitchen when she stertit pitchin graivel at Moussie. I couldna thole their ongauns at aa.

I wonert aa day hou I could win hame to my minnie, and thocht ο hiding aneth the hap of the lorry that took the strawberries ilka mornin to the mercat, but the lorry wasna loadit till efter my bed-time, and I sleepit in the truckle bed in the kitchen, and couldna hae won oot withoot bein seen, sae I had to gie up the idea athegither. But I didna feel friends wi my grannie at aa, and I sulkit till denner-time.

The tea traiveller caaed juist efter denner, and my grannie opened the door ο the big press in the front lobby, to see hou muckle tea she had left in her big tea-box, and she fand a lump ο candied peel left ower frae last Yule’s bakin, and telt me to take it awa and keep oot ο mischief; sae I gaed to the auld dry waal fornent the hoose to eat it sittin in the muckle stane troch.

Whan it was aa dune to the last crumb, and I had lickit my fingers, I sclimmed an aipple tree at the Kirkfieldbank road-end to see if ony brakes wad pass alang the Clyde road. Naething passed but Jubb the horse-breker’s gig, and I was thinkin ο gaun ower to the shop at the Falls to look at the sweeties in the winnock, when I gey nearly fell aff the tree.

For there aneth me, crossin the Clyde road frae the waal yett, was Moussie, wi her kittlins roun her, aa sair droukit and gey feeble, and pewlin like mad, but nane the waur aither.

I lookit frae the tree to the Linmill front door, and shair eneugh there was my grannie, staunin on the door-stane wi the tea traiveller, spinning oot her crack.

She wad see them, I thocht, for Moussie was takin the middle ο the road.

I thocht ο chaisin her into the hedge, but I couldna win oot to the road withoot gaun to the orchard yett, and that was fornent the front door. By the time I had won through the thick groset busses, and was raxin for the sneck, my grannie and the tea traiveller had their een on the haill procession.

She said something, and the tea traiveller lauched, and syne she caaed for Daft Sanny.

He swore that he had tied a stane to the mou ο the poke, juist as he was bidden, and had flung it weill oot ower the watter. And he swore that the spate was sae fierce that the poke didna sink, but was cairrit to the lip ο Stanebyres Linn and lowpit ower, to faa doun and doun amang the spume till it was oot ο sicht. The very thocht gart my teeth chitter.

Whan my grannie tried to mak oot that he was leein he took ane ο his mad fits, and I had to run for my grandfaither to haud him doun, or he wad hae felled us aa. The tea traiveller gat an unco fricht.

My grandfaither believed Daft Sanny’s story, for he said cats werena cannie craiturs, and had faur mair sense nor ony man or wumman born, and he said that the stane maun hae left the poke as it gaed ower the Linn, and the poke maun hae floatit to the edge of the pule at the Linn fute, and Moussie maun hae been there to win oot the kittlins and lick them dry. Whateir the wey a it, we suld neir ken, but ae thing was certain, that Moussie was a gey clever cat.

And that nicht my grandfaither sat in his big chair at the kitchen fire wi Moussie on his knee, and I sat on the rug wi a saucer-fou ο cream and fed the wee kittlins. My grannie said she daurtna gang contrar to Providence.