The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1897-10-02

In the matter ofkputtlng on clean
socks.
Suddenly / grew conscious that
her eyes had become fixed in her
head. She was gazing directly at my
neck.
"What's come of the blue silk tie
that ye gaed cot wi the NIGHT,
Aleck?" she cried.
l had the lie ready. 1t crouched
Immediately behind my teeth; but l
tell you what could not speak it
to my mother. So was silent.
"Did We lose it, Aleck?" she said
bending her face little nearer to
look. 1t was nearly out that time.
And it would have been a good lie
a serviceable lie. But just then l
caught sight of the webbed and
netted crows feet about my mothers
eyes, and the lie went back to its own
place like Jack in the box. The lid
was shut upon it with clang too.
did We lose it Aleck?" my mother
repeated more gently.
GO Lord, if only she would be
angry, and rage at me!')
No" said |, II didna lose it NTH
erl'
l suppose that 1 spoke sullenly, in
that native Scotch which can sound SO
dour and hard. But my heart within
me was not sullen. Whenever my
mother spoke to me like that, | be-
came at once about six years of my
age. And there is nothing that
twenty one resents more.
did ye gle it away?"
There was silence in the garnet. I
lost sight of the crows feet. l saw
instead that my mothers eyes were
of faded and cloudy blue, and her
heart seemed so close under them
that l actually saw them ache.
"Aye," | said slowly, the words
driven out of me, II gied it AVA
mither!"
"To Nance Chrystie9"
"Aye."
My mothers under lip began to
"wicker" as we used to say at school
the sort of trembling that you can
not stop when you will. 0, if she
would only strike me. What a pitt.
less thing a mother isl l wanted tc
cry out and stamp. If | had not
been brought up a Cameronian
would have sworn at my mother, and
had to answer for it on the Judgment
Day. AS it was, only nodded.
There was full century's silence
in the garnet over the peat-shed. My
m other held the Drumfern Standard
her favorite paper for deaths and
marriages, folded broadly in hel
hand. heard something go pat-pai
on it. | knew it was not raining
But | wished that it had Numbered
and that the bolt had stricken me.
ooh, mither, why do Ye do that?''
l cried at length. For l was on my
knees beside her, trying to take her
thin fingers. But she held me off
with one hand, while she tried to dry
her eyes with her apron and the
Drumfern Standard clutched to.
gether in the other.
"Oh, it's RIGHT, it's richt It's as
the guidman says. Itcomes to every
mither. But her first born son! 1t
has come wee sudden on me, Aleck.
That's al Ye MIGHT haze let me be
the first wi ye a while lopgerw
"Mither, mither," l said I'VE shall
aye be first wi me as lang as l live"
She shook her head slowly, sadly.
And if there was weary worldwis-
dom in her smile, there was the wis
dom of heaven in her eyes-yet not
the wisdom of the angels who had
neither sinned nor suffered.
"And she put it about her neck9"
said my mother, more like one calling
up old memories out of the vastly
deep and meditating upon them, than
like one who asks question.
I said nothing-for how could
tell her the truth.
SWELL" said my mother at last.
"she's bonny eneuch to look upon.
Oh, I'll never deny that she is fell
bonny!"
Nance Chrystie never in her life
had such compliment paid to her
beauty as those dozen reluctant
words of my mothers, forced from
her trembling lips by sense of JUS
tice, stern as the mortal law itself.
"And what did she gle you, Aleck7
Will ye let me see it,"
She spoke almost pitifullY, like
one who asks favor almost too great
to be thought upon.
"Naething'
HAIack ]inna Lao M vour ro;tbarl"