# Oh! Christina!/Chapter 11

pp. 96–105.

### XI
#### THE GUM THAT STUCK

CHRISTINA entered the shop and flung her bag of school-books into a corner, remarking that she was awful glad it was Friday.
"That is not the proper way to treat your good books," said her aunt mildly. "Books should be treated with care and respect."
Christina smiled. "Like the books you had when you was at the schule," she returned. "Like yer auld grammar, wi' the front pages tore oot an' drawin' o' wee men on near every page. Eh, auntie?"
Any reply of Miss Purvis was prevented by the entrance of a small boy, who slammed a copper on the counter and demanded "a penny's worth 'o sling elastic."
"I do not keep elastic for catapults, my boy," said Miss Purvis gravely.
"Oh, d'ye no'? Aw, weel, gi'e's a ha'p'ny pea-shooter."
"I do not keep pea-shooters."
The small boy looked disgusted as well as disappointed.
"Catapults and pea-shooters are very dangerous things," the spinster said in solemn tones. "You might put somebody's eye out, you know."
The small boy grinned, picked up his penny, and retired. At the door, however, he halted. With a wink to Christina, he put the question—
"D'ye keep gum?"
"I do," pleasantly replied Miss Purvis.
"Weel, stick to it!" he cried, and disappeared.
"That," said Miss Purvis indignantly, "is the most impertinent boy in Kilmabeg."
"I'll warm his ears the first time I catch him," said Christina. "But a' the same, auntie, ye should keep elastic an' pea-shooters. That's the tenth boy——"
"I will never be a party to the maiming of my fellow creatures and dumb animals, Christina. I have never kept elastic for catapults, nor pea-shooters, and I never intend to do so."
"Weel, ye're jist throwin' away guid custom. I wud advise ye to gi'e Baldyin an order when he comes the day for three yards o'——"
"You must allow me to manage my own business, Christina."
"Hooch, ay! Keep yer hair on!"
"Christina! I cannot permit——"
"Oh, weel, let it off then. But ye're no' hauf up to date, auntie. What's the use o' keepin' a shope, if ye dinna stock what's wantit? Ye're no' as faur behind the times as ye was when I first cam' here, but there's plenty o' things still ye could sell, if ye had them."
"That will do, Christina. You must——"
"I'm sure I've pit ye on to heaps o' things that ha'e selled like winkin'. D'ye no' mind when I pit ye on to peevers? Ye hadna a peever in the shope when I cam' here, and since then ye've selled dizzens."
"Sold, Christina," said Miss Purvis. "When will you learn to speak correctly? Yes, I am quite aware that you have made a number of useful suggestions for the shop, my dear. At the same time, there are certain things which nothing would induce me to keep——"
"Oh, there the boat comin'!" cried the girl, and bolted into the back room, where she spent some minutes in washing her hands and face, tidying her hair, and exchanging her old hat for her Sunday one. She wished that she could have changed her rough boots for her neat Sunday ones, but calculated that she could not spare the time.
On her reappearance in the shop Miss Purvis looked up from the ledger.
"Are you going out, Christina? Why have you put on your good hat?"
"It's needin' the fresh air, auntie, an' ma latest mash prefers it."
"Your what?"
"Ma adorin' swine—ma lovey-dovey young man! Ye needna sit up for me. Ta-ta! Love an' kisses to Baldyin."
Miss Purvis opened her mouth, but no words came.
With a friendly wave of her hand and a bright smile Christina skipped from the shop, whereupon Miss Purvis sighed heavily, and asked herself what on earth she was to do with her niece.
"I fear the child requires a stronger hand than mine," she said to herself. "Goodness knows I have tried hard to improve her speech and manners, but they seem to grow worse than better.... And yet it would be dreadfully dull now without her." Once more she sighed heavily, and bent over the ledger.
On the road in front of the shop Christina halted and watched the steamer being warped to the pier. Presently the gangway was laid aboard, and among the few persons who crossed it she descried the burly form of Mr. Baldwin. She smiled in a satisfied fashion, and turned away in the opposite direction.
"I'll gi'e him till five o'clock," she thought, "an' then I'll catch him when he's gaun back to the pier."
Passing through the straggling village she came to the open road by the loch-side. She seated herself on an ancient bench, whereon countless names and initials had been cut by natives and strangers. It was a fine, mild afternoon, and Christina, having found a piece of toffee in her pocket, placed it in her mouth and looked sentimentally at the still, blue water. The last novelette she had read had been about a young duke who had loved a governess and, after numerous troubles, married her. It was not so difficult to think of her aunt as a governess, but somehow Mr. Baldwin would not be a duke for more than two seconds at a time. Visions of jumping-jacks and other juvenile joys came in the way. Nevertheless, Christina's imagination carried her to the point where Mr. Baldwin sank on one knee and imprinted burning kisses on the taper fingers of Miss Purvis; and imagination might have carried her even further, had it not been interrupted by a loud snigger and the question—
"Haw, Teeny! What's the price o' yer farden dolls?"
The unseemly interruption was made by the small boy who had insulted her aunt not half-an-hour ago. He was accompanied by another small boy.
Recovering herself, Christina gave both a haughty stare.
"Has yer auntie stuck to her gum yet, Teeny?" inquired the first small boy, whereat his friend guffawed very loudly.
She sprang up and made at the nearest boy, but she was too late, and the pair fled, yelling with laughter.
"Wait till I catch ye, Jimsie M'Phee!" she shouted wrathfully. "Jist you wait!"
Mockery answered her threats, and she was fain to give chase, but restrained herself and resumed her seat, where for some time thoughts of revenge possessed her mind to the utter exclusion of romantic imaginings. Finally, however, she soothed her soul with a quotation from one, or perhaps more, of the novels she had recently read: "Mark ye, wretch! My turn will come!"
Mr. Baldwin, who was in the stationery as well as the toy "line," had another customer besides Miss Purvis in Kilmabeg, to wit the "general merchant," and it was shortly after he left the latter's shop that Christina met him. She intended to exhibit great surprise on seeing him, and with that idea she approached him, keeping her gaze fixed on the cock on the parish church steeple. Unfortunately, when within a few yards of him her foot caught on a loose stone, and she narrowly escaped a fall.
"Oh, Jamaica!" she muttered crossly, putting back her hat, which had been jerked over her nose, while it occurred to her that, had she been a real heroine, she would have sprained her ankle.
"Why, Christina!" exclaimed Mr. Baldwin, setting down his sample cases. "That was a squeak! How are you? I was afraid I was going to miss you again as I did last month."
They shook hands, and Christina could not remember the polite remarks she had meant to make.
"Are you going to give me your company to the pier?" Mr. Baldwin inquired, picking up his cases.
Christina had intended to say, "With pleasure," but she merely murmured, "Uh-ha!"
"Come along, then," he returned cheerfully. "I think the boat is about due. I was glad to see your aunt looking so well to-day."
"Did she give ye an order for sling-elastic and pea-shooters?"
"No! did she intend to?"
"Ah, weel," said the girl, resisting temptation, "we'll see aboot them the next time ye come. How's business?" In talking to Mr. Baldwin she endeavoured to speak as much like her aunt as possible, though, to be sure, it was rather difficult.
"Business is not so bad as I've seen it," he replied. "And how is school?"
"Rotten!—I mean to say it's most disagreeable. I would rather be workin' in the shop."
"Yes," he said, checking a laugh; "but you'll get plenty of the shop in good time. Miss Purvis tells me you are becoming a great reader, but——"
"Ay! I'm a demon for readin'! So is she."
"But she seems to be afraid that you do not care for the best—er—literature."
"I like stories aboot love," said Christina, with a stealthy glance. "So does she."
"Quite so. But there are different kinds of love stories. Now, I think you should allow your aunt to choose your reading in the meantime. What do you think, Christina?"
Christina thought it very disappointing that he had not blushed at the mention of the word "love," but she only said, "Uh-ha!"
"That's right!" returned Mr. Baldwin, and was about to change the subject when she inquired whether he liked love stories.
He laughed, remarking that he was rather old for that sort of thing, just as Christina was rather young.
"Ye're no' that auld," said she.
"How old do you think I am?"
"Fifty-three," she guessed wildly.
"Oh no; I'm not quite that age—nearly ten years younger."
"That's no' sae bad. Hoo long ha'e ye been comin' to Kilmabeg, Mr. Baldwin?"
"Eight years, at least."
Christina suppressed a sigh. She had often wanted to ask her aunt that question, but had never ventured. Eight years! Love at anything like first sight was now out of the question.
"I was readin' a bewtiful love story last night," she said, with an effort. "It was aboot a bewtiful girl that had bewtiful golden hair." Here she remembered that her aunt's hair was no particular shade of brown. "But it wasna the colour that was sae bewtiful. It was the length. When the bad man in the story seized her alibaster arm an' hissed in her ears, the bewtiful hair fell in a shinin' cascage to her knees, an' she said she would wait for the man she loved—he was in the lock-up for not killin' another man—she said she would wait for him till she was old an' grey. An' I dare say she would ha'e waited if she had needit to." Christina came to a sudden stop. She had meant to show that the happiness of marriage was not necessarily confined to youth, and that love was possible at any age; but the task now seemed utterly beyond her. Besides, the story seemed to have lost its point. She felt hot and miserable, and was relieved to observe the steamer nearing the pier.
Mr. Baldwin may have seen the moral, though not the point, of the tale, and he said pleasantly, holding out his hand—
"Well, Christina, you must tell me the rest another time. But don't read too many love stories. Now, good-bye. I left some sweets for you with Miss Purvis. See you next month, I hope."
Christina turned away, feeling that she had made a fool of herself, and walked slowly and dejectedly home.
"I doot there's naethin' in it," she told herself.
As she drew near the shop Jimsie M'Phee and his companion peeped from an entry and jeered.
"Is yer auntie stickin' yet?"
Christina, trembling with rage, rushed into the shop.
"Is that you, dear?" her aunt called from the back-room. "Tea is nearly ready."
"I'll be back in a meenute," she replied, panting, as she went behind the counter. She did not remain there long, but after doing something that made a faint crackling sound, she went to the door of the shop and looked out. Jimsie M'Phee was still there in the entry, his back towards her. Creeping cautiously along the wall, holding something very carefully in her left hand, she reached the unsuspecting boy and whipped his cap from his head.
Then she ran swiftly along the road, and as she slackened her pace at last she contrived to empty the contents of a penny bottle of gum into the cap.
Then she halted, and Jimsie, furious, came up with her.
"Gi'e me ma bunnet!" he yelled.
"There yer bunnet!" she screeched, and clapped it on his head.
She reached home short of breath, but full of satisfaction. Romance was all very well in its way.