Page:Everywoman's World, Volume 7, Number 7.djvu/11

BRINGING MALCOLM TO TIME

By EDITH M. RUSSELL

Illustration by ESTELLE M. KERR

MALCOLM MACPHERSON'S gray eyes shone with an unwonted enthusiasm, and his arms swung from their broad shoulders with an air of determination that was new to his general easy-going manner, as with quick strides he turned the corner into Hawthorn Street and gaily ran up the well-worn steps of Jeanie Graham's house.

Jeanie opened the door when she saw him coming, exclaiming, "What ails ye, Malcolm? Yir dae'n an extra stunt the nicht, or is there a mad dog after ye, that ye step sae lively?"

"It's happy my thochts are the nicht, Jeanie, my lass. I've jist closed a big deal wi'——but, never mind."

"That's a' ye think aboot, Malcolm, the pennies and pounds. It's nae sae attentive ye've been tae me the last week past, Malcolm."

"It's there yir mistaken, lassie," assured Malcolm, as he reached a long arm around Jeanie's slender waist, and drew her gently toward him. "It's for the lo'e o' ye, Jeanie, that I've been sae busy the week, Is it mairrit next month we'll be, lass?"

"Next month, Malcolm? That's ower sudden!"

"Sudden!" repeated Malcolm. "Ye ken, lassie, that I've been comin' tae see ye this ten year back."

"I ken that weel eneuch, Malcolm, but ye haena askit me yet, an' noo ye rush things by amaist namin' the day yirsel," and Jeanie raised her eyes to her lover's with as warm a blush as had mantled her cheeks ten years before, when she had almost brought Malcolm to the point of asking the momentous question.

"It's ay, is it, lassie?"

"It's naethin' o' the kind, Malcolm. Dae ye think I'd be coorted thae ten years an' then be mairrit aff hurrit like withooot a bonnie set o' claes! I'll accept ye the nicht, Malcolm, an' the frien's an' neibors'll ken we're betrothed at last, but ye maun gie me time tae make mysel' a proper outfit as becomes the bride o' a MacPherson."

Malcolm's shaggy brows contracted for a moment.

"I didna ken ye wadna be willin', lass. Everything's ready an' I've ta'en a wee bit hoose frae the first o' July. O' course, if it'll inconvenience ye ony, there's ither lasses that wad jump at the chance. "Little Belle Ferguson, wi' the saucy brown een, aye has a sweet smile for me, an'——"

"I haena been wastin' time wi' ye an' helpin' tae polish rough manners thae ten years tae han' ye ower tae Belle Ferguson, or ony ither belle, sae it's mairry ye, I will, Malcolm MacPherson, this day fortnicht, but mind ye, if ye hae tae han' ower my weddin' ootfit after the weddin', it's a' yir ain fault, no' bidin' yir time."

"That's spoken like my ain bonnie lass," declared Malcolm, and he seized Jeanie by the hands and swirled her into an ecstatic Highland Fling.

"I felt a' the time ye wad consent, lass, an' I've jist been tae the jeweller's an' I've bocht a nice wee ring."

Jeanie smiled as the tiny jewelled circlet was slipped over the pony finger that had toiled long enough to be rewarded with such an ornament.

"An' whaur maun the hoose be, Malcolm?" she asked, after the first emotions of the long deferred betrothal had subsided.

"That ye will no' ken, lassie, until we get back frae oor honeymoon."

"It's a queer way yir treatin' me, Malcolm. It will be ower late then I'm thinkin' tae see whether things maun be in guide order."

"I dinna wunner at ye, lass, for thinkin' hard o' my plan, but it's the maist joyous thing ever happened in a' my life. Jist bide a wee, lassie, an' ye'll ken a' aboot it."

When Malcolm left that night Jeanie lay awake until after the clock had chimed the midnight hour.

"Jeanie Graham," she chided herself, "ye maun be daft tae agree tae a; the ful notions o' Malcolm MacPherson, an' consent tae a hasty marriage wi' jist the claes the village ken by hairt tae stan' up in. But for a' that I lo'e the lad dearly. He's braw an' bonnie, an' maist bewitchin' in his maisterfu' moods as he wis the nicht."

Between the ages of thirty and forty life has reached a stage when time seems to fly quickly. Added then to the fact that Jeanie Graham was somewhere between those years, and that her daily tasks did not permit her much leisure for dreaming, came the little preparation that could be made at short notice, so the fortnight between the proposal and the wedding was short indeed.

Malcolm MacPherson was the proudest man in Glendale the day of his wedding. His sandy hair was plastered down with oil, making its appearance both smoother and darker, but the deep rich voice made him still Malcolm as, with true Scotch reverence, he clasped the hand of his middle-aged lassie in the year-old sprigged muslin gown, and repeated with sincerity the words that spoke volumes, and united their destinies "till death us do part."

Then followed the general rejoicings, the good wishes of the villagers, and the proverbial rice thrown after the retreating couple.

Malcolm smiled at Jeanie as he speculated on the value of thrift, and wondered how many rice bannocks could have been made from the shower through which they passed from the church to the railway.

"They'll hae nae chance tae get near us comin' back, lassie; we'll be sae quick gettin' tae oor new hoose."

"An hoo are ye sae sure o' that, Malcolm?"

"It's a' arrangit, lassie," and Malcolm drew a deep sigh of content as he gazed out on the fertile lands and entrancing scenery that invited them to a fortnight of happiness.

"A penny for yir thochts, lassie?"

"I'm thinkin', Malcolm, as hoo saft an' lily-white my han's will be wi' naethin' tae dae for twa lang weeks."

"I wis aye thinkin' that mysel', lassie, but the han's will hae a langer rest nor that. Wait an' see, Jeanie."

When the happy fortnight elapsed, Jeanie looked from the train window as the whistle shrieked and the locomotive drew up at the little station.

"Faither's nae here wi' Bluebell, Malcolm, but I can walk. It's a' pit on thae brides drivin' like royal buddies."

"It's naethin' o' the kind, Jeanie. Bluebell an' yir faither had their this day fortnicht, but we'll gang tae oor ain hoose in gran' style. Step in, Jeanie."

"Hoots, mon! I'll nae be playin' a joke on the gentleman wha owns this motor. Ye can that weel eneuch, Malcolm."

"I ken weel eneuch, Jeanie, that this automobile is waitin' here for my ain true lassie, so step in."

In a twinkling, it seemed to Jeanie, they were whirled away, here a turn, there a turn, until they came to, a bewitching cottage newly built—the cosiest home-nest that it was possible to conceive, and Jeanie uttered an exclamation of delight as the car stopped, and Malcolm led her triumphantly up the steps, closely followed by the supposed chauffeur, who looked almost as happy as the bridegroom.

"How does Mrs. MacPherson like the house?" he asked Malcolm.

"She hasna seen it yet. Ye'll ken in a meenit." Then to his bride, "This is Mr. Gray, Jeanie. He's proved a guid frien' taw me, an' ye'll no be unwillin', lass, gin he luiks at the hoose wi' us."

Jeanie held out her hand cordially to the new friend, and in her own and Malcolm's name bade him welcome to their new home.

 

AS the door was opened a maid in smart attire came forward with a light step, and pleasantly greeted her new master and mistress.

Jeanie was dumbfounded, but did not care to betray her surpise before her husband's friend. She managed, however, to whisper to Malcolm,

"There's nae tellin' whaur this extravagance will end, Malcolm. I'm nae sae delicate that I canna dae my ain wark."

"Wheesht, Jeanie, lass, I'll tell ye a’ aboot it by-an'-by. An' tell me, lassie, hoo the furnishings suit ye?"

"I'm afeart, Malcolm, ye've spend a' yir bank account. It's gran', Malcolm. I dinna ken ye had sic guid taste. The rugs are that rich luikin', an' as saft as the sward o' auld Scotland. It's a' sae hamelike an' cheery. Even the canary bird asingin' sae sweet an' blithesome. See, Malcolm?"

"The song o' the tea-kettle is sweeter music in my ears the noo, lassie," replied Malcolm, as he hurried his bride's steps in the direction of the well appointed dining-room, where the dainty napery made a background for the most tempting feast imaginable, and the tea tasted delicious because its flavour was wafted from bridal rose china.

"It beats a', Malcolm, hoo ye coud a' thocht o' a' this. It seemed ye got manly an' wise a' at aince, for ye mind ye werna aye sae guid at plannin'. Ye ken weel hoo ye askit my opeenion afore ye bocht a wee bit thing like a necktie."

"I mind weel," returned Malcolm, "an, lassie, I'm nae better the noo at plannin' things. It's oor guid frien', Mr. Gray here that we maun baith thank."

"Mr. Gray!" repeated Jeanie in bewilderment, extending her hand for the second time to the beaming visitor.

"Please don't thank me, Mrs. MacPherson," laughed Mr. Gray. "It's your husband you should thank for reading the advertisements and acting on them."

"Here's the blessed advertisement," put in Malcolm, as he uced a clipping from his vest pocket and handed it to Jeanie.

And this is what the happy bride read:

 

A HOME OF YOUR OWN

Special Offer—Extraordinary

 

I WILL sell on easy terms to the first young couple answering this advertisement, not only a dear little home of seven rooms, but it will be furnished complete—everything from cellar to roof—including linen, There will be nothing lacking—even a ton of coal in the cellar. The night you return from your honeymoon I will be waiting for at the depot, and will take you to your new home in my car. There will be a maid to greet you at the door (salary paid one month).

I regret that I cannot duplicate this offer—it applies to the one couple only—the first to close.

 

JOHN H, GRAY, 'The Real Estate Man.'"

 

"I hardly ken what man tae thank," laughed Jeanie. "Mr. Gray, ye've dune the bravest thing in a' yir life, bringin' Malcolm tae time. Here he's been coortin' me for ten lang years, but ne'er a wurrd aboot a hoose until he read yir advertisement."

Mr. Gray laughed heartily. "And now that I see how pleased you both are, I shall withdraw my presence," he said, rising, "and in leaving you, congratulate you on the good start you have made in life, and wish you both health, wealth and all the good things of life."

After their benefactor, the real estate man, had left, Jeanie threw both arms around Malcolm's neck.

"Malcolm, yir lang-heided an' no the careless lad I tuik ye for. Wha'd a' thocht o' ye runnin' awa' at sic speed tae get a gran' bargain like this! A hoose a' furnished without a care on oor pairt!"

"I'm that prood o’ ye, lassie, and gled o' the hoose for yir bonny sake."

"But, Malcolm,"—and Jeanie’s blue eyes looked roguishly into her husband's gray ones—"what wad ye hae dune after buyin' the hoose, gin I had held oot against mairryin' ye afore June?"

"Dune what I said I wad dae afore, Jeanie lass—gi'en the guid name o' MacPherson tae wee Belle Ferguson, and had her share the hoose wi' me.”

But the warm, lover-like kiss that Malcolm imprinted on his wife's rosy lips gave the lie to that explanation.

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