The car rolled along towards Peebles and the manse where the minister, Mr Campbell, lived. Aunt Jane sat up very straight, looking from right to left with satisfaction, ready to bow to her acquaintances. They drew up at the manse door and got out.
“Ring the bell, John!” Aunt Jane ordered. It was obviously not the correct thing for her to ring the bell for herself. After a look of surprise John Meggetson obeyed.
As the jingling died away an elderly woman appeared at the door. It was Mrs Murray, the minister’s housekeeper with whom Aunt Jane was only slightly acquainted. Mrs Murray seemed surprised to see the three of them on the doorstep.
“Is Mr Campbell at home?” Mrs Meggetson asked politely.
“No, he’s in Edinburgh,” the housekeeper replied.
“Mrs Campbell then?”
“She’s gone with him. What were you wanting, Mrs Meggetson?” Mrs Murray was nothing if not forthright.
“Well – we thought we’d like our nephew to make his acquaintance and – and his son’s, as the laddies will be attending the same school.”
A face peered round Mrs Murray. It belonged to Douglas Campbell, the minister’s son.
“Oh, there you are, Douglas!” Mrs Meggetson said.
The boy made no move to come forward but just stared at Tom, who stared back in his turn.
“Will ye’ not come and shake hands wi’ Tom?” Mrs Meggetson said, slightly exasperated. Douglas came forward reluctantly and took Tom’s hand in a limp grasp.
“Where’s he come from?” he asked Mrs Meggetson as though Tom was dumb.
Tom spoke for himself. “London!” he said proudly.
“I’ve heard my father say London’s a dirty, wicked city,” the boy replied, his lips curving downward in disapproval.
“That’s not true!” Tom said indignantly. “It’s no worse than any other city.”
“Ssh! Ssh, Tom!” Mrs Meggetson said, taken aback. “I daresay the minister had reason for what he said.”
“It’s a lie!” Tom persisted. “London’s a grand place with wide streets and parks. It’s not dirty!”
“My father does not tell lies,” Douglas Campbell said righteously.
“Then he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Tom replied bluntly. “He can’t have seen the Thames, the Embankment and the Houses of Parliament and Westminister Bridge and – and—” A sudden wave of nostalgia for London choked him and he could say no more.
“What impudence!” the housekeeper remarked, regarding Tom dourly.
“There’s no good done by standing on the step arguing about London if Mr Campbell’s no’ here,” Uncle John decided. “We’d be as weel to get into the car again.”
“I’ll thank you to tell Mr Campbell that we called to see him,” Aunt Jane told the housekeeper with dignity.
Uncle John opened the car door and they all got in. Tom looked back to see Douglas Campbell pulling a face and putting out his tongue at him. Like lightning he put out his tongue in return but he was not quick enough for Aunt Jane.
“Tom Stokes, I’m ashamed of you!” she said in annoyance.
“He shouldn’t have said what he did about London,” Tom replied, hot with temper.
“You shouldn’t have answered him back like that, Tom,” his aunt reproved him.
“What for no’?” Uncle John said unexpectedly. “There was no’ call for Douglas Campbell to be making his remarks about London. He started the ball rolling, no’ Tom!”
Jane Meggetson stared at him. “Douglas Campbell’s the minister’s son, I’ll remind you.”
“That doesna’ matter. That’s no excuse for him,” Uncle John replied stubbornly. There was silence for a few minutes then he enquired, “Are you still wanting to go see the schoolmaster?”
“I don’t know!” Aunt Jane said, looking put out.
“Ah, weel, there’s no sense in getting all decked out in our best if we dinna’ finish the job,” Uncle John said, and he turned in the direction of the schoolhouse.
They found Alexander Donaldson at home. He greeted Uncle John warmly. “Man, John Meggetson, I’ve got something the day that’ll fairly make you open your eyes!” he said. He led the way into his book-lined sitting room. “Sit ye down while I bring it.” He pulled forward an armchair for Mrs Meggetson, then disappeared into the kitchen premises. He returned bearing a large dish in his hand.
“Look what I’ve got on this ashet!” he said with pride, using the Scottish word for a large meat dish. There, on the ashet, was a huge speckled trout. Uncle John gazed at it in admiration and awe.
“Man, that’s a right big fish! It’ll be close on four pounds.”
“Four pounds one ounce!” Mr Donaldson said with pride.
“Where did ye tak’ him?”
“Ye know the pool near where the Leithen Water runs into the Tweed? I got him there. I’ve been after him for days.”
“What fly did ye use?” Uncle John asked with all the enthusiasm of a fisherman.
“A grey hen with a rusty body,” Mr Donaldson replied.
Tom opened his eyes wide. He had never heard of anybody fishing with a grey hen! Mr Donaldson saw his astonished look and laughed.
“It’s the name of a fly, laddie. I tried him with several and I began to think he was too wise for me, but he rose at last to the grey hen.”
“Did he put up a fight?” Uncle John asked.
“Aye, so he did! He had my reel whirring like a whirligig at a fair as I played him up and down the river. I thought I’d tire before he did, or else my line would snap. It took me every bit of half an hour to land him.”
The two men gazed in rapt admiration at the big fish and the conversation began to drift into talk of pools and currents and fishing gear and flies. Tom sat as one listening to a foreign tongue. It all went over his head. Even Aunt Jane got restive. She cleared her throat determinedly at last.
“Aye, it’s a fair wonder o’ a fish,” she agreed, “but you mustn’t forget what we’ve come to see Mr Donaldson about, John.”
“Oh, aye!” Uncle John replied, as one coming to himself. “Aye, it’s about the lad here, our nephew Tom. Ye’ll have room for him in the school at the start o’ the term?”
“Aye, there’s room. Which part of the country are you from, lad?”
“London!” Tom said explosively, waiting for the derogatory remark against his city, but none came.
Mr Donaldson looked a little surprised at the lad’s tone but all he said was, “Most London schools have a good name. You should have had quite a fair degree of education there. How old are you?”
“Twelve.” Tom replied briefly.
“Mm! Then you’ll have passed your eleven plus exam?”
“No.” Tom sounded defiant.
“But you’ll have taken the exam, surely?”
Tom shook his head but vouchsafed no explanation.
“But you’re of the age to have sat the exam. Were you ill at the time?”
It would have been easy for Tom to say “Yes” but there was always a downright honesty in Tom that would not let him lie.
“No. I–I played truant on the day I should have been at the exam,” he admitted.
“Tom Stokes!” Aunt Jane exclaimed, horrified.
Even Uncle John looked rather nonplussed. “You never told us that, lad!”
“You never asked me!” Tom gulped.
“Oh, what a shocking thing to do!” Aunt Jane said.
“At least Tom has told us quite honestly of his own accord what happened,” Mr Donaldson said quietly. “Maybe other opportunities will offer themselves yet. All is not finished if you don’t get the eleven plus at the right age. Is Tom likely to be staying with you for a length of time, Mr Meggetson?”
Mr and Mrs Meggetson looked rather helplessly at each other.
“It’s this way, Mr Donaldson,” Mrs Meggetson began. “Tom’s sister has gone to America to be married, and she hasn’t been able to make arrangements for Tom to go out to her, so he may be here quite a while.”
Tom’s eyes burned with bitterness. “Her last letter said they’d got a nice apartment but they’d got no room in it for me. I don’t think her husband wants me there,” he blurted out.
“Give her time, Tom. It may not be easy for them,” Aunt Jane said quietly.
Tom shook his head unhappily.
Mr Donaldson gave him a keen glance. “What did you do in your spare time when you were not at school, Tom? Did you belong to any boys’ clubs?”
Tom shook his head. “No. I just used to go round with other lads looking at things, you know.”
“What kind of things?” Mr Donaldson persisted.
“Oh, I dunno!” Tom seemed reluctant to say. “Cars – and people and – and the ships on the river.” It was as though the last was dragged out of him.
“The Thames?”
“Yes.”
“There’s a lot to be seen on the Thames. It’s like a gateway to London,” Mr Donaldson remarked.
Tom’s eye kindled gratefully for a minute, then the spark died again.
“You’ll take a cup of tea now, Mrs Meggetson?” the schoolmaster offered, but Aunt Jane had already risen to her feet.
“That’s kind of you, Mr Donaldson, but we’ve got another visit to make on the way home so maybe you’ll forgive us.”
John Meggetson eyed the big trout reluctantly. He would have liked to stay and talk fishing with Alexander Donaldson.
“My! That’s the bonniest trout I’ve seen this many a day,” he said as he followed his wife out of the room.
They said goodbye and the car started off once more.
“What was your hurry?” John Meggetson asked his wife. “Are you going somewhere else?”
“You can call at the roadman’s house on the way back. It’s no’ far out of your way.”
“The roadman? What are ye wanting wi’ Jim Young? Are we all dressed up to go and see the roadman?” There was a hint of sarcasm in John Meggetson’s voice.
“Don’t talk so foolish!” Aunt Jane said, rather nettled. “I want to see Alison, his wife. She’s not been well this while past since she broke her leg that bad winter. She was a good lassie to me when she helped at the farm before she was married, when our children were young.”
Uncle John took the road that led to the roadman’s cottage.
“Don’t be too long,” he said, as he stopped the car. “Tom will want to give Flash a turn outside before it’s dark.”
Tom threw his uncle a grateful glance.
A small dark girl opened the door to them. She had an an elf-like face with bright eyes and seemed about the same age as Tom.
“Hullo, Elspeth! I’ve just called to ask for your mother,” Mrs Meggetson greeted her.
“Come in, please, Mrs Meggetson.” Elspeth led the way into a tidy, bright living room. Mrs Young sat in an easy chair, her leg stretched out on a footstool and a pile of mending beside her. A quiet-mannered, weather-beaten man rose to greet them. He was Jim Young.
“Why, it’s you, Mrs Meggetson!” Mrs Young exclaimed with delighted welcome. “I’m sorry I canna’ get up so easily.”
“Dinna’ try, my lassie! How’s the leg?”
A cloud passed over Alison Young’s face. “The bone’s no’ healed as it should have done. It’s left one leg shorter than the other and I canna’ walk without pain.”
“How are you managing, then, Alison?”
“Elspeth’s a good lassie about the house and Jim helps her. I can do sitting-down jobs like preparing the food and even the ironing.”
“Are the doctors not doing anything for it?”
“Doctor McAulay wants her to go to the hospital in Edinburgh to have it re-set. Ye see, the damage was done to it when she had to lie so long when it was broken and the doctor couldna’ get up the valley for the snow drifts,” Jim Young explained.
“When will you be going to the hospital then?” Mrs Meggetson asked.
“I canna’ say! It’s kind o’ difficult. I don’t like to leave Elspeth on her own and sometimes, when Jim’s been working at a distance, it’s been awful late when he’s got back. She’s such a bit lassie and it’s so lonely here. Anything might happen.”
“Mm!” Mrs Meggetson looked thoughtful.
All this time Elspeth had been quietly busy putting the kettle on the fire and setting cups and saucers on a tray. Tom, slightly bored and aching to get back to Flash, watched her as she moved about. Shyly she proffered cake along with the welcome cup of tea.
“This cake’s very good, Alison. Ye’ve no’ lost your light hand with a sponge,” Mrs Meggetson remarked.
“Oh, Elspeth made that,” Mrs Young said.
“Weel done, lassie!” Mr Meggetson approved.
Elspeth blushed and went away to fill up the kettle again.
When they had finished their tea Mrs Meggetson said rather pointedly, “Will you take Tom to see your rabbits, Elspeth, while I have a bit talk with your mother?”
Elspeth led the way to an outhouse behind the cottage where some of the road repairing tools were stored. Standing against its wall was a well-constructed rabbit hutch in which were two silky Angora rabbits and several tiny ones that looked like small balls of fluff. Tom looked at them with interest.
“That’s Bill and Betty and their family,” Elspeth told him shyly.
“My! They’re fine rabbits!” Tom exclaimed.
“Aye, they’re right bonnie, aren’t they?” Elspeth was pleased with Tom’s admiration. She opened the hutch. “Like to lift one out? Go on! Betty won’t mind. She’s used to me handling her babies.”
Tom lifted out one silky-coated little creature and stroked it.
“Have you any rabbits?” Elspeth asked him.
“No, but I’ve got a dog up at the farm.”
“What kind?”
“A sheep dog. I’m training him myself. Uncle John is showing me how to do it. He thinks Flash is going to be good.” Before Tom realized it he had launched into a description of the way he was training his dog. Elspeth listened with close attention, asking a question now and again which showed she was wise in the way of sheep dogs.
“Do you like being at Birkhope, Tom?” she asked.
Tom puckered his brows. “I like it well enough when I’m out with Flash, but – but it’s awfully lonely up there.” He suddenly felt an urge to confide in Elspeth. “I tried to run away once.”
“Whatever for? Mrs Meggetson’s real kind, isn’t she?”
“Oh, yes! They’re both kind. I miss London, though, the friends I used to go about with, and – and the river.”
Elspeth regarded him seriously. “You ought to give the place more of a trial. You’ll be going to school here and maybe you’ll make some friends. It’s daft to run away before you’ve tried to do something about it yourself.”
Tom might have been resentful of such a remark but Elspeth looked so kindly at him that he could not take offence. Suddenly he asked, “Do you go to school here?”
“Yes.”
“Which school?”
“Mr Donaldson’s school.”
“That’s where I’m to go.” Tom’s face brightened and the two children smiled at each other.
Aunt Jane called from the house. “Come along, Tom. We’re ready to go now.”
Tom thrust the little bundle of fur carefully back inside the hutch and Elspeth secured the catch.
Aunt Jane buttoned her coat. “Weel, that’s all settled then, Alison,” she was saying with satisfaction.
“It’s very good of you, Mrs Meggetson.”
“Not a bit! You’ll let me know when you get word from the hospital?”
“I’ll do that, thank you.”
The goodnights were said and the Meggetsons got back into the car.
“See you at the school, Elspeth!” Tom called through the window as they drove away.
When they reached the farm Flash greeted them with a “Wuff” of welcome that sounded as though he was very pleased with himself.
“What on earth’s that he’s got between his paws?” Uncle John asked. “Is it a rat?”
“Guid sakes, I hope not! Not in my kitchen!” Aunt Jane cried in alarm. She took a nearer look. “Mercy on us! If it’s not your old cap! It must have fallen off the peg when you closed the door.”
Mr Meggetson snatched up the cap, hardly recognizable as a cap any more. Flash had chewed it to ribbons!
“Weel, it only wanted that to complete the evening!” he declared, looking ruefully at the remains.
When Tom saw his uncle’s look he felt a sudden anger at Flash.
“You bad dog!” he said, lifting his hand to smack the puppy. Uncle John caught him by the elbow.
“No, no, Tom! You must never lift your hand to the dog in anger. He’s but a pup and he thinks he’s done something clever. To him that cap was an enemy to be worried. You must teach him better.”
“How?” Tom asked.
“That I’m going to leave you to work out for yourself, lad. It’s a thought late to be starting on Flash’s next lesson tonight. There’s always tomorrow.”
Tom had kept Flash at his drill in the paddock with three sheep till he was well disciplined and did not run at them to scatter them. He crouched at Tom’s command and held the sheep by the power of his eye.
“Aye, he’s ready now to make a cast,” Uncle John decided.
“A cast? What’s that?”
“He’s got to run in a wide half-circle round the sheep to the back of them, to right or left at the word of command, and bring the flock in gradually towards you. We’ll take him out on the hillside with the same three sheep. He’ll have more room to run there. Jeff can take them along for us, but once we’ve reached the pasture, then Flash can take over.”
Uncle John whistled up Jeff and, with Flash on the lead, they took the sheep up the hillside. Though Flash trotted obediently behind Tom he watched Jeff jealously and now and again gave a little whine of impatience and even annoyance.
“We’ll have to change these sheep, Tom. Flash is beginning to look upon them as his property and that won’t do,” Uncle John decided. “Besides, the sheep are beginning to know what’s expected of them and to obey the commands too.”
“Are sheep really as clever as that?” Tom asked in surprise.
“Sheep are no’ as stupid as some folk would have you believe. True, they follow each other in herds but that’s a natural kind o’ thing, when a crowd is a protection against their enemies.”
“I’ve never thought of it that way,” Tom confessed. “What enemies do sheep have?”
“Foxes, Tom! They go for the young lambs, aye, and carrion crows that swoop and pick out the lambs’ eyes.”
Tom gave a shudder.
“You should see a ewe stand up for her young then. She’ll fight with her little stumps o’ horns if she’s driven to it and lash out with her hooves. Here we are in the field. Come awa’ to me, Jeff!” Uncle John shouted, giving a shrill whistle with his fingers to his mouth. Obediently Jeff left the sheep and came trotting back to his master.
“It’s all Flash’s now,” Uncle John said. “Take the stick, Tom, and point firmly away to your right and send him round the sheep. At the same time shout “Awa’ here!” to him in a loud voice.
Tom slipped the lead from Flash and did as Uncle John told him, pointing with the stick to his right and shouting in a clear voice “Away here, Flash!”
Flash looked at him uncertainly for a moment, then set off running in the direction to which Tom pointed, then he faltered, looked round and stood, not knowing quite what to do.
“Why doesn’t he go on?” Tom cried in a disappointed voice.
“Here’s where you’ve got to be patient, Tom. This is the first really hard lesson Flash has had to learn. Call him back to you and begin all over again. This time let him look at the sheep first, then point your stick to the right and make a circling movement with it to show him you want him to come in behind the sheep. Ye’ll maybe have to do it as many as twenty or thirty times before he gets the idea, but call him straight back and begin over again every time he goes wrong. Be stern with him at the same time to let him know ye’re not pleased.”
All at once, after half-a-dozen tries, Flash seemed to grasp what Tom meant him to do and he ran in a wide half-circle round the little flock and behind them. It was Uncle John’s turn to get excited.
“Fine! Fine! A good turn of speed and he’s coming in nicely behind them at a fair distance. Tell him to drop down. Quick, Tom!”
“Down! Down, Flash!” Tom bellowed at the top of his voice.
Astonished, but obedient, Flash flopped down reluctantly.
“Grand! Just grand!” Uncle John approved. “Look! The sheep have faced round to him and he’s holding them by the power of his eye.”
“What do we do now?” Tom asked, eager to continue.
“Steady, lad, steady, or the dog will catch your impatience! Now you’ve to make him bring the sheep towards you very slowly, driving them like he did in the paddock. Whistle him up. Then, after a few yards, make him go down and wait for your next command.”
Tom gave a whistle and in an instant Flash was up and the sheep turned and galloped before him. Before Flash came near them Tom shouted “Down!” and Flash stopped and crouched on his stomach again, though he went down with a look of frustration. The sheep trotted on a few yards then stopped and faced round. They did not seem unduly alarmed by Flash’s movements, but when he fixed them with his eye, they seemed to freeze where they stood.
“Now make him lift the sheep again, Tom.”
Tom went once more through the commands. Flash obeyed, bringing in the sheep nearer. At last the sheep were within a stone’s throw of Tom and his uncle.
“Now for the last drive, Tom!”
Tom whistled and Flash sprang to life. This time, however, he was not to be denied the fun of driving the sheep as hard and far as he could. They went scampering past Tom with Flash at their heels, threatening to nip them, though he never did it!
“That’s spoiled a good performance,” Uncle John said ruefully. “But at least he didna’ bite them!”
Tom whistled for Flash who came to him wagging his tail as though he had done something very clever.
“No, no, Flash!” Uncle John said, shaking his head at him.
“Bad dog, Flash!” Tom scolded him.
The little dog looked from one to the other, aware of their disapproval, but puzzled, as Tom slipped on the lead again.
“What do I do now, Uncle John?” Tom asked in a disappointed voice.
“Begin again, lad. It’s the only way. But this time ye mustn’t let Flash bring them down the whole length of the field. Stop him after a couple of ‘lifts’ of the sheep, then call him off and praise him when he stops. We expected too much of him the first time. Wait! I’ll send Jeff to take the sheep up again.’”
All this time Jeff had been watching Flash’s performance, almost with a sniffy air of condescension. When he was sent to fetch the sheep back he gave a whisk of his tail as much as to say, “Watch this!” With perfect discipline, hardly even needing his master’s whistle, he took the sheep up the field again to where they had been. As he came back to his master he gave Flash a sly look out of the corner of his eye.
“Showing off he is a bit!” Uncle John chuckled. “Wait! Jeff’s a good dog. It’ll do Flash no harm to watch his way of working. I’ll send Jeff to bring the sheep down again.”
Almost with an air of boredom, Jeff lifted the sheep and brought them down the hill. He crouched behind them every few yards giving them a chance to stand for a few seconds, then, without hustling them, brought them to a standstill a few feet from his master.
Flash watched his performance, at first straining at the lead as if anxious to join Jeff, but when Tom said “Down!” Flash lay at his feet panting a little and with his pink tongue flicking in and out. He kept his eye on every movement that Jeff made and when Meggetson praised his dog, Flash pricked up his ears. Meggetson made Jeff take the sheep out to the centre of the pasture again, then whistled for him to return. There was no doubt Jeff came back with a slight swagger.
“Now send Flash to fetch the sheep in towards us again,” Uncle John directed.
“Away here!” Tom shouted, waving his stick to the right and then in a circle towards the sheep. Flash ran out in a wide arc to come in behind them.
“That was a perfect cast!” Uncle John said almost under his breath. “Now, down wi’ him, Tom!”
“Down, Flash!” Tom commanded in ringing tones, and Flash stopped dead in his tracks and dropped to earth.
“Grand! Grand!” Uncle John muttered. “Let him lift the sheep twice and stop twice, then go and fetch him in yourself, Tom.”
The puppy executed the manoeuvres much as he had seen Jeff do them, then remained crouched, his eye never leaving the sheep.
“Go put the lead on him now, Tom, but praise him as you do it.”
There was almost a question in Flash’s eye as Tom came up to him. Was he to be praised or blamed? When Tom patted him and said “Good dog! Well done, Flash!” the little dog leaped up with delight, jumping at Tom and licking his hands.
“Quiet, boy!” Tom said, and at a wave of the stick Flash fell in behind him as they went down the field. When they reached Jeff beside Meggetson, Flash gave a short “Wuff!” of triumph, as if to say “I can do it too!”
“Shall we teach Flash to go out on the left now, Uncle John?” Tom had seen his uncle sending Jeff out both to the right and the left and he was eager for Flash to make progress.
“No, Tom. Let him have a few more lessons on the right cast and the lift and the drive first. When he’s mastered that, then we can do it all again from the left cast.”
“How long will it take Flash to learn the right and left-hand commands properly?” Tom asked.
“It might take three months till he’s absolutely certain of them but Flash is an intelligent wee dog and he might learn in less time than that. We’ll give him a lesson morning and evening, and if you’ve time midday, there might be no harm in giving him a short lesson then too. You can give him a walk among the flocks on the hills too, Tom, but the minute he shows any sign of trying to chase them, you must put the lead on him. He must only drive them when you give him the commands.”
“It takes a long time to train a sheep dog, doesn’t it?” Tom commented.
“Not wearying, are you, lad?”
Tom shook his head vigorously.
At the end of that week Tom said rather proudly to his uncle, “Flash has learned another new trick. Would you like to see it?”
They had just finished supper but Uncle John got up and reached for his stick.
“No, you don’t need to go out, Uncle John! He’s learned it here in the kitchen.” A look of conspiracy passed between Tom and his aunt. Mrs Meggetson produced her husband’s battered and chewed cap out of a drawer. Tom tossed it in front of Flash.
“Watch it, Flash!”
Flash took up a crouching attitude, growled softly at the old cap and fixed his eyes on it but he did not attempt to touch it. Uncle John’s eyes widened.
“Now, both of you come for a stroll round the garden, please,” Tom said. “Will you close the kitchen door behind you, Uncle John?”
They took a turn as far as the river, then came back. Cautiously, Uncle John opened the kitchen door and peered round it. Flash was still mounting guard over the old cap but not attempting to touch it.
“Make as though you’re going to lift it, Uncle John.”
John Meggetson pretended to make a snatch at the cap and Flash growled and bared his teeth.
“Now, see this!” Tom said. He held out his hand. “Bring it to me, Flash!”
Flash lifted the cap gingerly between his teeth and brought it to Tom.
“Weel, I’m fair dumbfoundered!” Uncle John exclaimed. “You’ve got him right under control, laddie.”
“I’d trust that dog to watch my best hat!” Aunt Jane declared.
“My! That’s saying something!” Uncle John gave Tom a wink and Tom actually found himself returning it!