Chapter 42 - Page 2

by sitting in his own
armchair.'"

Gavin never quite delighted to honor the precentor, of whom he was
always a little afraid, and perhaps Margaret knew it. But you must
not think less of her for wanting to gratify her son's chief
elder. She thought, too, that he had just done her a service. I
never yet knew a good woman who did not enjoy flattering men she
liked.

"I saw my chance at that," Whamond went on, "and I says to her
sternly, 'In worldly position,' I says, 'I'm a common man, and
it's no for the like o' sic to sit in a minister's chair; but it
has been God's will,' I says,' to wrap around me the mantle o'
chief elder o' the kirk, and if the minister falls awa frae grace,
it becomes my duty to take his place.'

"If she had been looking at me, she maun hae grown feared at that,
and syne I could hae gone on though my ilka word was a knockdown
blow. But she was picking some things aff the chair to let me down
on't.

"'It's a pair o' mittens I'm working for the minister,' she says,
and she handed them to me. Ay, I tried no to take them, but--Oh,
lads, it's queer to think how saft I was.

"'He's no to ken about them till they're finished/ she says,
terrible fond-like.

"The words came to my mouth, 'They'll never be finished,' and I
could hae cursed mysel' for no saying them. I dinna ken how it
was, but there was something; pitiful in seeing her take up the
mittens and begin working cheerily at one, and me kenning all the
time that they would never be finished. I watched her fingers, and
I said to mysel', 'Another stitch, and that maun be your last.' I
said that to mysel' till I thocht it was the needle that said it,
and I wondered at her no hearing.

"In the tail o' the day I says, 'You needna bother; he'll never
wear them,' and they sounded sic words o' doom that I rose up off
the chair. Ay, but she took me up wrang, and she said, 'I see you
have noticed how careless o' his ain comforts he is, and that in
his zeal he forgets to put on his mittens, though they may be in
his pocket a' the time. Ay,' says she, confident-like, 'but he
winna forget these mittens, Mr. Whamond, and I'll tell you the
reason: it's because they're his mother's work.'

"I stamped my foot, and she gae me an apologetic look, and she
says, 'I canna help boasting about his being so fond o' me.'

"Ay, but here was me saying to mysel', 'Do your duty, Tammas
Whamond; you sluggard, your duty, and without lifting my een frae
her fingers I said sternly, 'The chances are,' I said, 'that these
mittens will never be worn by the hands they are worked for.'

"'You mean,' says she,' that he'll gie them awa to some ill-off