I LOED LINMILL wi aa my hairt, and wadna hae missed my holidays there for aa the gowd in Spain, but it had ae drawback. My faither aye cam doun at the week-ends, and though I likit him weill eneuch on the Seterday, whan he took my minnie and me for picnics to the Stanebyres Wuids or the Hinnie Muir, on the Saubbath I hatit him, for then he trailed us baith aa the wey to Lanark, to gang to the kirk, and syne hae denner wi his ain folk at the Gusset Hoose.
If it was mebbe the heich stiff collar he wore on the Saubbath that made him sae girnie and crabbit, it was the silly claes I had to weir mysell that made the day a misery for me. And ο aa the weary Saubbaths that eir I spent, the warst was whan my minnie dressed me up in a new pair ο breeks, wi a jaiket to match, in broun velvet claith, wi a yella blouse and a broun silk tie, wee yella socks like a lassie’s, and silly shune wi buttons insteid ο laces. For ordinar I wore coorse breeks and a guernsey, and tacketty buits.
The hat, tae, was like a lassie’s, a big wide strae affair wi an elastic band that grippit roun the chin. It was ower ticht and hurt me.
I had seen the claes afore, whan they were first bocht. They had come in a box frae Hamilton and my minnie hadna lost a meenit afore tryin them on. But I hadna fasht muckle then because I didnae hae to gang oot in them, and was alloued to tak them aff, as sune as she was shair they were a fit, and gang awa oot and play.
But that Saubbath mornin I kent what I was in for, and dreidit the thocht ο hou I wad look. Sae efter my breakfast I slippit oot and gaed awa doun across the Clyde road, and through the waal yett, and into a thick pairt ο the waal orchard, amang some ploom trees, whaur I kent there were twa busses ο sulphur grosets.
I had the front of my guernsey turnt up, and was fillin it wi the grosets, whan I heard my minnie’s caa.
I didna let on I could hear.
Her caa cam nearer, sae I slippit faurer doun the orchard to the bank abune Clyde, and hid at the back ο some hazels.
It was a mistake, for there was a wee spring waal near at haund, wi caulder watter than the waal faurer up, that was used for ordinar, and my minnie whiles cam to this waal, wi a milk can, for watter to drink, and she had trampit a wee pad through the lang gress.
She cam doun this pad nou, caain my name, and I could hear that she was growin gey angert.
Still I wadna hae let on I heard her, had I no heard my faither caain tae, and he soondit wud athegither. I kent that gin I didna gie mysell up I wad get a lickin bye the ordinar.
I ged forrit to my minnie with the sulphur grosets. I kent she was fond ο them.
‘I was pouin ye some grosets, minnie.’
She gied me a queer look, as if she kent I was leein, and took me by the haund.
‘Ye’ll hae us late for the kirk. Hurry.’
That was aa she said, for I didna think she likit the thocht ο the trail to the kirk ony mair nor I did mysell, and whan we came alangside my faither, on oor wey back to the hoose, she pat in a word for me.
‘I think he had forgotten what day it was. He was pouin grosets.’
But she took me into the big bedroom up the stair and dressed me in the new claes, for aa that.
Whan we had taen the road, and were walkin through Kirkfieldbank, my faither on ae side ο me and my minnie on the ither, on oor wey to the service, I felt like a clippit yowe whan it leaves the fank and stauns hingin its heid in shame fornent its ain lamb, for hauf the laddies ο the place were staunin at the brig-end wi naething to dae but stare, and I kent that whan we walkit past them they wad hae a guid lauch.
And shair eneuch, as sune as we drew fornent them there was a lood snicker. My faither and my minnie walkit on wi their heids in the air, but I turnt mine and gied a guid glower.
It just made them waur. There wasna ane withoot a braid grin on his face, and they grinned aa the mair whan they saw I was nettlet.
Then, juist as we had passed them and were on the middle ο the brig, I heard ane ο them sayin something aboot my lassie’s shune, and there was a lood roar. I had juist time to keek roun and fin that the ane wha had spoken was Will MacPherson, whan my faither gied me a teug and telt me to waulk straucht or he wad clowt my lug.
Will MacPherson was juist my ain size. I vowed I wad hae a bash at him the first time I met him by himsell.
It was a wearie walk up the Lanark brae, and we were sair pecht when we won to the tap, but the easin ο the brae brocht nae relief, for whan we won to the fute ο the Bloomgait we could hear the kirk bells, and my faither streitched his lang legs in case we wad be late. I had to rin, and my minnie nearly burst her hobble skirt.
We won to the kirk door juist as the bells gied their last clap, and my hairt sunk to my shune, for I kent then that the haill congregation wad be sittin waitin, and wad stare at me mair nor ordinar whan I gaed past the pews to sit heich abune them aa in my ain chair aneth the poupit. For though ither laddies sat wi their families in the body ο the kirk, my faither and mither sang in the choir, and I caaed the haunle that pumpit the air into the organ.
To tell the truith, gin it hadna been for Denner-Time Davie, the meenister, there wadna hae been a body in that kirk ο ony importance that wasna syb to me through my faither, for my Lanark grandfaither was the precentor, and conductit the choir wi a wee black stick; my aunt Lizzie played the organ, watchin the wee black stick in a lookin-gless hung aside her music; and my uncle Geordie was an elder and gaed roun wi the plate. My Lanark grannie bade at hame in the Gusset Hoose to hae the denner ready, but she had a haund in kirk maitters tae, for it was she wha made the communion wine, wi Linmill rasps.
As I walkit past the pews in front ο my faither and my minnie I felt shair that the haill congregation were splittin their sides, but whan I had won to my sait and lookit doun they aa seemed solemn eneuch, though I could see that Scott the draper and Lichtbody the lawyer were soukin peppermints.
Then I saw that Finlay ο Jerviswuid’s laddie was haein a fit ο the giggles, and I could hae sunk through the flair wi shame.
Finlay’s laddie was twice my size. I couldna bash him. I wad hae to gie Will MacPherson a double doze.
It seemed years afore Denner-Time Davie came in frae the session-room, like a hungert craw in his black goun, to clim to the poupit abune me and kneel doun to pray, and he couldna hae been very shair ο his sermon that mornin, for he bade on his knees langer nor his ordinar, askin nae dout for guidance on the akward bits. I had anither look at the Finlay laddie, and whaneir his een met mine he took anither fit ο the giggles.
I could hae grutten then, and I canna say I felt very fond ο my minnie, though I worshipped for ordinar the very grun she walkit. What wey did she hae to dress me up like a Jessie, thocht I, whan she kent I had to sit for sae lang fornent sae mony folk.
But Denner-Time Davie rase at last, and I rase tae, to tak my place ahint the curtain at the side ο the organ; I was neir sae gled in aa my life to win oot ο folk’s sicht.
I stertit to caa the organ haunle. There was a wee lump ο leid on the end ο a string, that drappit as the organ filled wi air, and aye whan it was doun to the bottom mark on the side ο the organ ye took a bit rest, and didna pump again till it had risen hauf wey to anither mark at the tap, that showed whan the organ was tuim. Weill, I pumpit till the leid was at the bottom mark, and syne sat doun on the organ bench, and insteid ο keekin through a wee hole I had in the curtain, as I did for ordinar, to see wha werena singin, I fell into a dwam and thocht ο Will MacPherson and the Finlay laddie, and what I wad like to dae to them for lauchin at my silly new claes.
I forgot the wee lump ο leid.
I had Will MacPherson flat on the grun, face doun, and was sittin on his back rubbin his neb in the glaur, whan aa at ance the organ gied a keckle like a clockin hen, and stoppit athegither. The singin ο the congregation began to dee oot tae, though my grandfaither roared like a bull to encourage the choir, and by the time I had tummlet to what was wrang, and had lowpit for the haunle in a panic, the feck ο folk had dried up.
The organ roared oot again, for my aunt Lizzie had keepit her fingers gaun, but I kent I was in disgrace.
For the rest ο the service, till sermon time, I had my ee on that lump ο leid like a craw wi its ee on a gun, but I was in sic dreid ο the sermon comin, whan I wad hae to sit fornent the congregation again, that I didna fin it easy, and there were whiles whan I was in sic a panic I could haurdly dae richt. I was ower eager, and ance whan the wecht gaed a wee thing ower laich the organ nearly blew through the rufe.
Whan I gaed oot to my chair again to sit through the sermon, I daurtna lift my heid. I prayed to God that Denner-Time Davie wadna tak lang, but there maun hae been sin in my hairt, for my prayer ans answert, and the sermon gaed on like a Kirkfieldbank kimmer at her kitchen door. It was aa aboot some burnin buss that didna burn oot, but gaed on lowin and lowin for aa time, and was lowin till that very day. The text was ‘Nevertheless it was not consumed’. I had to mind the text, for at denner later on in the Gusset Hoose my grandfaither wad be shair to ask me what it was.
I keepit on sayin ower the text to mysell, and wonerin whan the sermon wad feenish, but still Denner-Time Davie gaed on and on, like the burnin buss itsell, till I thocht the twa were a pair.
It wasna juist the man’s dreichness that bothert me. He had a big bible fornent him, lyin on a kind ο cushion, and he had a habit ο thumpin his bible to bring his peynts hame. Ilka thump he gied the bible drave the stour frae the cushion, and it rase in the air and syne settlet, and on its wey to the flair driftit ower my heid, for I was sittin juist aneth him, and it gat into my een, and up my nose, and whiles gart me sneeze. And I didna like to sneeze sittin up there fornent the congregation, for it gart ilka body wauken up and stare.
As the sermon gaed on, though, he lost his first fire, and thumpit at the bible less and less, and in the end I maun hae drappit aff to sleep, for whan he did feenish I didna notice, and had to be waukent by a shake frae my aunt Lizzie.
I was in sic disgrace by that time that I didna care what happened, and through the haill ο the last hymn I pumpit the organ like to ding doun the kirk. The singin could haurdly be heard.
When I gaed to the kirk door to wait for my faither and my minnie the folk were aa grinnin at me, and I hung my heid. My minnie, whan she cam forrit, lookit sae disjaskit that I gey nearly saftent, but the crabbit look in my faither’s een set my back up again, and I determined to sulk aa day.
Naither ο them said a word. They took me by the twa haunds and poued me up the Bloomgait to the Cross, and syne up the Waalgait to the Gusset Hoose, liftin the hat and noddin to this ane and that, as perjink as could be. But I kent by their grip that they were gey sair angert wi me.
The Gusset Hoose stude at the heid ο the Waalgait whaur the road dividit into twa, ae brainch gaun oot to the Lanark Loch and syne to Hyndford Brig, and the ither gaun doun to the mills at New Lanark. It was a hoose wi an air to it. It had been a toun hoose at ae time for some laird frae Carstairs, in the days whan the gentry left their ootler castles in the daurk and wat ο winter to bide whaur they could be close to ane anither and divert themsells wi parties and cairds.
But for aa its grand air I can seldom think ο the Gusset Hoose withoot smellin mince, for I canna mind a Saubbath whan we had ocht else, and the mince aye had rice in it to gar it spin oot. That I could swalla, but the sago that came efter it was mair nor I could stammack. It was like puddocks’ eggs in a dub and gart my innards turn.
Whiles, if aa had gane weill in the kirk, and I could reel aff the text whan I was speired at by my grandfaither, I wad be alloued to leave my sago efter a spunefou, and gang oot to the gairden to look at the flouers. But no that mornin. Insteid ο speirin for the text whan he came in my grandfaither gied me a glower.
‘What was wrang wi ye in the kirk the day? Ye were a fair disgrace.’
He lookit sae awesome in his tail-coat and dickie that I couldna fin a word to say.
My faither turnt on me.
‘Answer whan ye’re spoken to.’
‘The Finlay laddie was lauchin at my silly new claes.’
My aunt Lizzie liftet her een in horror to the rufe, and my minnie shook me till my teeth rattlet.
‘Dinna stert aa that nonsense again. Yer claes are gey bonnie. Ye’re a luckie laddie to hae claes like thae. I’m shair he is, uncle Geordie?’
My uncle Geordie gied me a glower tae, and turn to my faither.
‘He needs a guid leatherin. Ye’re ower saft wi him, John.’
My grannie syne began to speir, and the haill story ο the ongauns in the kirk had to be telt five times to her. By the time she pat the sago in my plate I could thole nae mair. I sat still and wadna touch the spune.
My faither took me into ane ο the bedrooms and gied me a richt guid lickin.
The rest ο the day was sic a misery that I can haurdly mind ae pairt ο it frae anither. Begrutten though I was, they didna leave me in the hoose, but poued me ahint them again whan they took their walk to the graveyaird to look at aa the faimily heid-stanes.
Efter that cam tea in the big front paurlor, wi my grandfaither sittin like God in his heich-backit chair, the muckle faimily bible on the flair at his feet, and a stourie aspidistra in the winnock ahint him. The aulder folk crackit till the tea was brocht in, aboot maitters abune my heid, and whan I had lookit for the hundredth time at the wheen picturs on the waas, ο dour auld MacLellans and MacCullochs in lum hats and lang side-whiskers, or mutches and shawls, I felt sae wearit ο sittin still that I couldna help but gant.
My grandfaither glowered at me again like the Lord in His wrath, and I trummlet sae muckle wi fricht that whan my aunt Lizzie haundit me my cup ο tea I skailed the haill clamjamfray on the rug.
I gat anither clowt for that.
Syne back to the kirk again, for the service at ein, but this time they didna trust me wi the organ. I had to sit in my Linmill grandfaither’s pew at the back ο the kirk, while the Finlay laddie took my place abune the congregation. As ye wad imagine, whan the folk saw that I had lost my job they had to turn roun and stare, and this time they couldna hide their glee. I could hae scartit their een oot.
The Finlay laddie pumpit to perfection. There wasna a faut to fin. I could hae grutten wi spleen.
Whan we won oot ο the kirk at last, and took the lang road hame to Linmill, I had ae thocht in mind, to rin on aheid ο my faither and my minnie and fin Will MacPherson in Kirkfieldbank.
But wad they lowse their grip? Deil the fear! We were nearly at the fute ο the Kirkfieldbank brae whan they gied me my freedom, and I had to rin sae hard to win ayont their caa that whan I did fin Will MacPherson, in Chalmers the coachman’s yaird, I was oot ο braith.
I gaed up to him in a blin rage and struck him on the gub.
The wee couard didna fecht back. He stertit to bubble. And an auld wife gied a skelloch frae her winnock.
‘I saw ye! I saw ye! Awa, ye young deil, afore I win at ye wi my dish-clout!’
Folk began to gether aa roun the yaird, amang them twa big brithers ο Will MacPherson’s.
The auld wife gaed on wi her skrechin.
‘The puir wee laddie wasna lookin near him, and he ran up and lammed him on the mou!’
I backit for the yaird yett, but I was ower late. The twa big brithers gaed for me at ance.
By the time my faither and my minnie cam alang the road I was rinnin wi bluid, and there wasna a haill steik in my new claes. The twa big MacPhersons had gane, but the auld wife was there to tell the haill story, and insist that it was aa my ain faut.
My faither was bleizin mad wi me for the rest of the wey hame, and my minnie was greitin.
I gat anither lickin afore I won to bed that nicht, and was sae sair aa ower that I could haurdly lie in comfort, but I telt mysell as I tossed amang the blankets that there wadna be anither Saubbath for a haill week, and in ony case I wadna hae to weir the velvet claes ony mair, for my Linmill grannie said they wad haurdly mak guid dusters, they were sae faur gane.
Wi that I fand my ease, and gaed to sleep.