A Dominie in Doubt Part 24
"'Od, Dauvit, noo that ye come to mention it I wud like to hear yer advice aboot the matter. I dinna see how I can tak an eldership, Dauvit."
"How no?" asked Dauvit in surprise.
Then he added: "But maybe ye ken whether ye've got a sinfu' heart or no."
"It's no that," said Tammas hastily, "I'm nae worse than some other elders I ken," and he glanced at Jake Tosh. "No, it's no the sin I'm thinkin' o'; it's my trade."
"But," I put in, "why shouldn't a joiner be an elder?"
Tammas bit off a chunk of Bogie Roll.
"That may as may be, dominie, but I'm mair than a joiner; I'm an undertakker."
"Weel," said Dauvit, "what aboot that?"
Tammas shook his head sadly.
"An undertakker canna be an elder, Dauvit. Suppose the minister was awa preachin' or at the a.s.sembly, and ane o' his congregation was deein', me as an elder micht hae to ging to the bedside and offer up a bit prayer."
"There's nothing in that," said Jake proudly; "I've offered up a bit prayer afore noo when the minister was awa."
"Aye, Jake," said Tammas, "but ye see you're a roadman. But an undertakker is a different matter. Goad, lads, I canna gie a man a bit prayer at sax o'clock and syne measure him for his coffin at acht.
That wud look like mixin' religion wi' business."
The a.s.sembly thought over this aspect.
"All the same," said the smith, "Dr. Hall is an elder, and naebody ever thinks o' accusin' him o' mixin' religion wi' his business."
We all considered this statement.
"Tammas," said Dauvit, "if ye want to be an elder tak it, and never mind the undertakkin'. But if ever ye have to gie a prayer just get Jake here to tak on the job."
He began to laugh here.
"I mind o' Jeemie Ritchie when he got his eldership. The minister gaed awa to the a.s.sembly in Edinbro, and as it happened auld Jess Tosh was deein', so Jeemie was asked to come up and gie her a prayer. Jeemie was in my shop when the la.s.sie Tosh cam for him, and I never saw a man in sic a state.
"'Dauvit,' he cries, 'I canna dae it! I never offered up a prayer in my life!'
"'Hoots, Jeemie,' says I, 'it's easy; just bring in a few bitties frae the Bible.'
"Auld Jeemie he scarted his heid.
"'Man, Dauvit,' says he, 'I cudna say twa words o' the Bible.'
"Weel-a-weel, I had to shove him oot o' the shop, and I tell ye, boys, he was shakin' like a shakky-trummly.
"Weel, in aboot half-an-hour Jeemie cam back, and he was smilin' like onything.
"'Hoo did ye get on?' I speered.
"'Graund!' he cried, '. . . she was deid afore I got there!'"
When I published my _Log_ a correspondent wrote accusing me of being disloyal to my colleagues in the teaching profession.
"Where is your professional etiquette?" he wrote.
I had lots of letters from teachers, some flattering, some not. One man wrote me from Croydon:--
"Dear Sir,--Are you a fool or merely a silly a.s.s?"
"Both," I replied, "else I should not have paid 2d. for your letter."
In haste the poor man hastened to forward two penny stamps, and to apologise for not having stamped the letter he sent me.
"I really thought that I had stamped it," he wrote.
Then I wrote him a nice letter telling him that the mistake was mine, for his first letter had had a stamp on it after all. He never replied to that, and I suppose that now he goes about telling his friends that I am a fool, a silly a.s.s, and a typical Scot.
Authors hear queer things about themselves. The other day a friend of mine asked for my _Log_ in a West End library. As the librarian handed over the book she shook her head sadly.
"Isn't it sad about the man who wrote that book?" she said.
My friend was startled.
"Sad! What do you mean?"
"Oh, haven't you heard?" asked the librarian in surprise; "he's a confirmed drunkard now."
"Impossible!" cried my friend, "with whisky at ten and six a bottle!"
But I meant to write about colleagues. One day a cla.s.s was holding a self-government meeting, and they sent for me. I was annoyed because I was having my after-dinner smoke in the staff-room. However I went up.
"Hullo!" I said as I entered, "what do you want?"
Eglantine the chairman said: "A member of this cla.s.s has insulted you."
"Impossible!" I cried.
Then Mary got up.
"I did," she blurted out nervously; "I said you were just a silly a.s.s."
"That's all right!" I said cheerfully, "I am," and I made for the door.
Then the cla.s.s got excited.
"Aren't you going to do anything?" asked Ian in surprise.