Erchie, My Droll Friend. Munro Neil

webs?’

      “‘No, nor spiders’ webs,’ I says, as gruff as onything. ‘I never saw a spider’s web in this hoose.’

      “At that she gets red in the face and tries no’ to laugh.

      “‘There ye are laughin’! Ye’re bate!’ I says.

      “So are you laughin’,’ says she; ‘and I saw ye first. Awa’, ye’re daft! Will I buy onything tasty for your supper?’

      “Duffy’s different. I’m no’ blamin’ him, for his wife’s different too. When they quarrel it scandalises the close and gies the land a bad name. The wife washes even-on, and greets into her washin’-byne till she mak’s the water cauld, and Duffy sits a’ nicht wi’ his feet on the kitchen-hobs singin’ ‘Boyne Water,’ because her mither was a Bark, called M’Ginty, and cam’ frae Connaught. The folk in the flet abin them hae to rap doon at them wi’ a poker afore they’ll get their nicht’s sleep, and the broken delf that gangs oot to the ash-pit in the mornin’ wad fill a crate.

      “I’m no’ sayin’, mind ye, that Duffy doesna like her; it’s jist his wye, for he hasna ony edication. He was awfu’ vexed the time she broke her leg; it pit him aff his wark for three days, and he spent the time lamentin’ aboot her doon in the Mull o’ Kintyre Vaults.

      “The biggest row they ever had that I can mind o’ was aboot the time the weemen wore the dolmans. Duffy’s wife took the notion o’ a dolman, and told him that seein’ there was a bawbee up in the bag o’ coal that week she thocht he could very weel afford it.

      “‘There’s a lot o’ things we’ll hae to get afore the dolman,’ says he; ‘I’m needin’ a new kep mysel’, and I’m in a menoj for a bicycle.’

      “‘I’m fair affronted wi’ my claes,’ says she; ‘I havena had onything new for a year or twa, and there’s Carmichael’s wife wi’ her, sealskin jaicket.’

      “‘Let her!’ says Duffy; ‘wi’ a face like thon she’s no’ oot the need o’t.’

      “They started wi’ that and kept it up till the neighbours near brocht doon the ceilin’ on them.

      “‘That’s the worst o’ leevin’ in a close,’ said Duffy, ‘ye daurna show ye’re the maister in yer ain hoose withoot a lot o’ nyafs above ye spilin’ a’ the plaister.’

      “Duffy’s wife left him the very next day, and went hame to her mither’s. She left oot clean sox for him and a bowl o’ mulk on the dresser in case he micht be hungry afore he could mak’ his ain tea.

      “When Duffy cam’ hame and found whit had happened, he was awfu’ vexed for himsel’ and begood to greet.

      “I heard aboot the thing, and went in to see him, and found him drinkin’ the mulk and eatin’ shaves o’ breid at twa bites to the shave the same as if it was for a wager.

      “‘Isn’t this an awfu’ thing that’s come on me, MacPherson?’ says he; ‘I’m nae better nor a weedower except for the mournin’s.’

      “‘It hasna pit ye aff yer meat onywye, says I.

      “‘Oh!’ he says, ‘ye may think I’m callous, but I hae been greetin’ for twa oors afore I could tak’ a bite, and I’m gaun to start again as soon as I’m done wi’ this mulk.’

      “‘Ye should gang oot,’ I tells him, ‘and buy the mistress a poke o’ grapes and gang roond wi’t to her mither’s and tell her ye’re an eediot and canna help it.’

      “But wad he? No fears o’ him!

      “‘Oh! I can dae fine withoot her,’ he tells me quite cocky. ‘I could keep a hoose wi’ my least wee bit touch.’

      “‘Ye puir deluded crature,’ I tell’t him, ‘ye micht as well try to keep a hyena. It looks gey like a collie-dug, but it’ll no’ sup saps, and a hoose looks an awfu’ simple thing till ye try’t; I ken fine because Jinnet aften tellt me.’

      “He begood to soop the floor wi’ a whitenin’-brush, and put the stour under the bed.

      “‘Go on,’ says I, ‘ye’re daein’ fine for a start. A’ ye want’s a week or twa at the nicht-schools, where they learn ye laundry-work and cookin’, and when ye’re at it ye should tak’ lessons in scientific dressmakin’. I’ll look for ye comin’ up the street next week wi’ the charts under your oxter and your lad wi’ ye.’

      “For a hale week Duffy kept his ain hoose.

      “He aye forgot to buy sticks for the fire at nicht, and had to mak’ it in the mornin’ wi’ a dizzen or twa o’ claes-pins. He didna mak’ tea, for he couldna tak’ tea withoot cream till’t, and he couldna get cream because he didna ken the wye to wash a poorie, so he made his breakfast o’ cocoa and his tea o’ cocoa till he was gaun aboot wi’ a broon taste in his mooth.

      “On the Sunday he tried to mak’ a dinner, and biled the plates wi’ soap and soda to get the creesh aff them when he found it wadna come aff wi’ cauld water and a washin’-clout.

      “‘Hoo are ye gettin’ on in yer ain bonny wee hoose noo?’ I asks him ae dirty, wet, cauld day, takin’ in a bowl o’ broth to him frae Jinnet.

      “‘Fine,’ says he, quite brazen; ‘it’s jist like haein’ a yacht. I could be daein’ first-rate if it was the summer-time.’

      “He wore them long kahoutchy boots up to your knees on wet days at his wark, and he couldna get them aff him withoot a hand frae his wife, so he had jist to gang to his bed wi’ them on. He ordered pipe-clay by the hunderwicht and soap by the yard; he blackleaded his boots, and didna gang to the kirk because he couldna get on his ain collar.

      “;Duffy,’ I says, ‘ye’ll mak’ an awfu’ nice auld wife if ye leeve lang enough. I’ll hae to get Jinnet started to knit ye a Shetland shawl.’

      “Efter a week it begood to tell awfu’ bad on Duffy’s health. He got that thin, and so wake in the voice he lost orders, for a wheen o’ his auldest customers didna ken him when he cried, and gave a’ their tred to MacTurk, the coalman, that had a wife and twa sisters-in-law to coother him up wi’ beef-tea on wet days and a’ his orders.

      “Duffy’s mind was affected too; he gave the richt wicht, and lost twa chances in ae day o’ pittin’ a ha’penny on the bag wi’ auld blin’ weemen that couldna read his board.

      “Then he ca’d on a doctor. The doctor tellt him he couldna mak’ it oot at a’, but thocht it was appen – what d’ye ca’t? – the same trouble as the King had, and that Duffy had it in five or six different places. There was naething for him but carefu’ dietin’ and a voyage to the Cape.

      “That very day Duffy, gaun hame frae his wark gey shauchly, wi’ a tin o’ salmon in his pooch for his tea, saw his wife comin’ doon the street. When she saw him she turned and ran awa’, and him efter her as hard’s he could pelt. She thocht he was that wild he was gaun to gie her a clourin’; and she was jist fair bate wi’ the runnin’ when he caught up on her in a back coort.

      “‘Tig!’ says Duffy, touchin’ her; ‘you’re het!’

      “‘Oh, Jimmy!’ she says, ‘are ye in wi’ me?’

      “‘Am I no’?’ says Duffy, and they went hame thegither.

      “‘There was a stranger in my tea this mornin’,’ says Duffy: ‘I kent fine somebody wad be comin’.’

      “His wife tellt Jinnet a while efter that that she was a great dale the better o’ the rest she got the time she went hame to her mither’s; it was jist the very thing she was needin’; and, forbye, she got the dolman.”

      VII CARNEGIE’S WEE LASSIE

      Erchie sought me out on Saturday with a copy of that day’s ‘News’ containing a portrait of Carnegie’s little daughter Margaret.

      “Man,