Lippincott'S Magazine Of Popular Literature And Science, Volume 26 December, 1880. - Various None (e book reader android txt) 📗

Or Two Were Knitting

Or Sewing; A Cripple Was Mending Baskets In One Of The Windows; And

About The Fire A Group Were Collected Superintending The Operations

Which Produced,  Though Not Unaided,  The Odors With Which The Room Was

Reeking.

 

Miss Mackenzie Stood For A Few Minutes,  Unnoticed Apparently,  Looking

About Her At The Motley Crowd. Baubie On Entering The Room Had Raised

Herself For A Second On Tiptoe To Look Into A Distant Corner,  And Then,

Remarking To Herself,  Half Audibly,  "His Boords Is Gane," Subsided,  And

Contented Herself With Watching Miss Mackenzie'S Movements.

 

There Seemed To Be No One To Do The Honors. The Inmates All Looked At

Each Other For A Moment Hesitatingly,  Then Resumed Their Various

Occupations. A Young Woman,  A Sickly,  Livid-Faced Creature,  Rose From

Her Place Behind The Door,  And,  Advancing With A Halting Step,  Said To

Miss Mackenzie,  "Mistress Kennedy'S No' In,  An' Wishart'S Oot Wi'S

Boords."

 

"I Wanted To See Him About This Child,  Who Was Found Begging In The

Streets To-Day."

 

Miss Mackenzie Looked Curiously At The Woman,  Wondering If She Could

Belong In any Way To The Wishart Family. She Was A Miserable Object,

Seemingly In The Last Stage Of Consumption.

 

"Eh,  Mem," She Answered Hurriedly,  And Drawing Nearer,  "Ye'Re A Guid

Leddy,  I Ken,  An' Tak' T' Lassie Away Oot O' This. The Mither'S An Awfu'

Wuman: Tak' Her Away Wi' Ye,  Or She'Ll Sune Be As Bad. She'Ll Be Like

Mysel' And The Rest O' Them Here."

 

"I Will,  I Will," Miss Mackenzie Said,  Shocked And Startled,  Recoiling

Before The Spirit-Reeking Breath Of This Warning Spectre. "I Will,  I

Will," She Repeated Hastily. There Was No Use Remaining Any Longer. She

Went Out,  Beckoning To Baubie,  Who Was Busy Rummaging About A Bed At The

Top Of The Room.

 

Baubie Had Bethought Her That It Was Time To Take Her Father His Dinner.

So She Slipped Over To That Corner Of The Big Kitchen Which Was Allotted

To The Wishart Family And Possessed Herself Of A Piece Of A Loaf Which

Was Hidden Away There. As She Passed By The Fire She Profited By The

Momentary Abstraction Of The People Who Were Cooking To Snap Up And Make

Her Own A Brace Of Unconsidered Trifles In The Shape Of Onions Which

Volume 26 Title 1 (Lippincott'S Magazine Of Popular Literature And Science) Pg 82

Were Lying Near Them. These,  With The Piece Of Bread,  She Concealed On

Her Person,  And Then Returned To Miss Mackenzie,  Who Was Now In The

Passage.

 

"Baubie," Said That Lady,  "I Will Send Some One Here About You. Now,

Don'T Let Me Hear Of Your Singing In The Streets Or Begging Again. You

Will Get Into Trouble If You Do."

 

She Was Descending The Stairs As She Spoke,  And She Turned Round When

She Had Reached The Entry: "You Know The Police Will Take You,  Baubie."

 

"Yes,  Mem," Answered Baubie,  Duly Impressed.

 

"Well,  Now,  I Am Going Home. Stay: Are You Hungry?"

 

Without Waiting For Her Answer,  Miss Mackenzie Entered A Tiny Shop Close

By,  Purchased A Mutton-Pie And Handed It To Baubie Wishart,  Who Received

It With Wondering Reverence. Miss Mackenzie Took Her Way Home Westward

Up The Grassmarket. She Turned Round Before Leaving It By Way Of King'S

Stables,  And Caught Sight Of Bauble'S Frock By The Entry Of Kennedy'S

Lodgings--A Tiny Morsel Of Color Against The Shadow Of The Huge Gray

Houses. She Thought Of The Big Kitchen And Its Occupants,  And The Face

And Words Of The Poor Girl,  And Promised Herself That She Would Send The

School-Board Officer To Kennedy'S Lodgings That Very Night.

 

Baubie Waited Till Her Friend Was Well Out Of Sight: Then She Hid Her

Mutton-Pie In The Same Place With The Onions And The Piece Of Bread,  And

Started Up The Grassmarket In Her Turn. She Stopped At The First Shop

She Passed And Bought A Pennyworth Of Cheese. Then She Made Her Way To

The Lothian Road,  And Looked Up And Down It Anxiously In Search Of The

Walking Advertisement-Man. He Was Not There,  So She Directed Her Course

Toward Princes Street,  And After Promenading It As Far East As The

Mound,  She Turned Up Into George Street,  And Caught Sight Of Her Father

Walking Along Slowly By The Curbstone. It Was Not Long Before She

Overtook Him.

 

"Od,  Lassie,  I Wis Thinkin' Lang," He Began Wearily As Soon As He

Realized Her Apparition. Baubie Did Not Wait For Him To Finish: With A

Peremptory Nod She Signified Her Will,  And He Turned Round And Followed

Her A Little Way Down Hanover Street. Then Baubie Selected A Flight Of

Steps Leading To A Basement Store,  And Throwing Him A Look Of Command

Flitted Down And Seated Herself At The Bottom. It Was Sheltered From

The Cold Wind And Not Too Much Overlooked. Wishart Shifted The Boards

From About His Shoulders,  And,  Following Her,  Laid Them Against The Wall

At The Side Of The Basement-Steps,  And Sat Down Heavily Beside Her. He

Was A Sickly-Looking Man,  Sandy-Haired,  With A Depressed And Shifty

Expression Of Face--Not Vicious,  But Weak And Vacillating. Baubie Seemed

To Have The Upper Hand Altogether: Every Gesture Showed It. She Opened

The Paper That Was Wrapped About Her Fragment Of Rank Yellow Cheese,

Laid It Down On The Step Between Them,  And Then Produced,  In Their Order

Of Precedence,  The Pie,  The Onions And The Bread.

 

"Wha Gied Ye That?" Asked Wishart,  Gazing At The Mutton-Pie.

 

"A Leddy," Replied Baubie,  Concisely.

Volume 26 Title 1 (Lippincott'S Magazine Of Popular Literature And Science) Pg 83

"An' They?" Pointing To The Onions.

 

A Nod Was All The Answer,  For Baubie,  Who Was Hungry,  Was Busy Breaking

The Piece Of Loaf. Wishart With Great Care Divided The Pie Without

Spilling Much More Than Half Its Gravy,  And Began On His Half Of It And

The Biggest Onion Simultaneously. Baubie Ate Up Her Share Of Pie,

Declined Cheese,  And Attacked Her Onion And A Great Piece Of Crust. The

Crust Was Very Tough,  And After The Mutton-Pie Rather Dry And Tasteless,

And She Laid It Down Presently In Her Lap,  And After A Few Minutes'

Passive Silence Began: "That," Nodding At The Cheese,  Or What Was Left

Of It Rather,  "Wis All I Got--Ae Penny. The Leddy Took Me Up Till A

Hoose,  An' Anither Are That Wis There Came Doon Hame And Gaed In ben,

An' Wis Speirin' For Ye,  An' Says She'Ll Gie Me Till The Polis For

Singin' An' Askin' Money In T' Streets,  An' Wants You To Gie Me Till Her

To Pit In Schuil."

 

She Stopped And Fixed Her Eyes On Him,  Watching The Effect Of Her Words.

Wishart Laid Down His Bread And Cheese And Stared Back At Her. It Seemed

To Take Some Time For His Brain To Realize All The Meaning Of Her

Pregnant Speech.

 

"Ay," He Said After A While,  And With An Effort,  "I Maun Tak' Ye To

Glasgae,  To Yer Aunt. Ye'Ll Be Pit In Schuil If Yer Caught."

 

"I'Ll No Bide," Observed Baubie,  Finishing Off Her Onion With A

Grimace. The Raw Onion Was Indeed Strong And Hot,  Even For Bauble'S Not

Too Epicurean Palate,  But It Had Been Got For Nothing--A Circumstance

From Which It Derived A Flavor Which Many People More Dainty Than Bauble

Wishart Find To Be Extremely Appetizing.

 

"Bide!" Echoed Her Father: "They'Ll Mak' Ye Bide. Gin I Had Only The

Banjo Agen!" Sighed The Whilom Christy Man,  Getting Up And Preparing To

Adjust The Boards Once More.

 

The Last Crumb Of The Loaf Was Done,  And Bauble,  Refreshed,  Got Up Too.

"Whenll Ye Be Hame?" She Questioned Abruptly When They Had Reached The

Top Of The Steps.

 

"Seven. Gaeway Hame Wi' Ye,  Lassie,  Noo. Ye Didna See _Her_?" He

Questioned As He Walked Off.

 

"Na," Replied Bauble,  Standing Still And Looking About Her As If To

Choose Which Way She Should Take.

 

He Sighed Deeply,  And Moved Off Slowly On His Way Back To His Post,  With

The Listless,  Hopeless Air That Seems To Belong To The Members Of His

Calling.

 

Bauble Obeyed Her Parent'S Commands In So Far As That She Did Go Home,

But As She Took Punch And Judy In Her Course Up The Mound,  And Diverged

As Far As A Football Match In The Meadows,  It Was Nearly Seven Before

Kennedy'S Lodgings Saw Her Again.

 

The Following Morning,  Shortly After Breakfast,  Miss Mackenzie'S Butler

Volume 26 Title 1 (Lippincott'S Magazine Of Popular Literature And Science) Pg 84

Informed Her That There Was A Child Who Wanted To Speak With Her In The

Hall. On Going Down She Found Bauble Wishart On The Mat.

 

"Where Is Your Father? And Why Did He Not Come With You?" Asked Miss

Mackenzie,  Puzzled.

 

"He Thoucht Shame To Come An' Speak Wi' A Fine Leddy Like You." This

Excuse,  Plausible Enough,  Was Uttered In a Low Voice And With Downcast

Eyes,  But Hardly Was It Pronounced When She Burst Out Rapidly And

Breathlessly Into What Was Clearly The Main Object Of Her Visit: "But

Please,  Mem,  He Says He'Ll Gie Me To You If Ye'Ll Gie Him The Three

Shillin'S To Tak' The Banjo Oot O' The Pawn."

 

This Candid Proposal Took Miss Mackenzie'S Breath Away. To Become The

Owner Of Baubie Wishart,  Even At So Low A Price,  Seemed To Her Rather A

Heathenish Proceeding,  With A Flavor Of Illegality About It To Boot.

There Was A Vacancy At The Home For Little Girls Which Might Be Made

Available For The Little Wretch Without The Necessity Of Any Preliminary

Of This Kind; And It Did Not Occur To Her That It Was A Matter Of Any

Moment Whether Mr. Wishart Continued To Exercise The Role Of

"Sandwich-Man" Or Returned To His Normal Profession Of Banjo-Player.

Baubie Was To Be Got Hold Of In any Case. With The Muttered Adjuration

Of The Wretched Girl In Kennedy'S Lodgings Echoing In Her Ears,  Miss

Mackenzie Determined That She Should Be Left No Longer Than Could Be

Helped In That Company.

 

How Earnest And Matter Of Fact She Was In delivering Her Extraordinary

Errand! Thought Miss Mackenzie To Herself,  Meeting The Eager Gaze Of

Baubie Wishart'S Eyes,  Looking Out From Beneath Her Tangle Of Hair Like

Those Of A Skye Terrier.

 

"I Will Speak To Your Father Myself,  Baubie--Tell Him So--To-Morrow,

Perhaps: Tell Him I Mean To Settle About You Myself. Now Go."

 

The Least Possible Flicker Of Disappointment Passed Over Baubie'S Face.

The Tangled Head Drooped For An Instant,  Then She Bobbed By Way Of Adieu

And Vanished.

 

That Day And The Next Passed Before Miss Mackenzie Found It Possible To

Pay Her Long-Promised Visit To