An Orkney Maid. Amelia E. Barr
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and listened with unabated pleasure to the very end, indeed, until he said: “Now, then, I must stop talking. I dare say there are many things to look after, for Boris told me he would be home for dinner at six o’clock. Till that hour I will take a little nap on the sofa.”
“But first, my Father, thou wilt go and dress. Everything is ready for thee, and mother is 20 dressed, and as for Thora, is she not pretty tonight?”
“Thou art the fairest of all women here, if I know anything about beauty. Wolf Baikie will be asking the first dance with thee.”
“That dance is thine. Mother has given thee to me for that dance.”
“To me? That is very agreeable. I am proud to be thy father.”
“Then go and dress thyself. I am particular about my partners.”
“Dress! What is wrong with my dress?”
“Everything! Not an article in it is worthy of thee and the occasion.”
“I tell thee, all is as it should be. I am not minded to change it in any way.”
“Yes; to please Thora, thou wilt make some changes. Do, my Father. I love thee so! I am so proud of thy figure, and thou can show even Wolf Baikie how he ought to dance.”
“Well, then, just for thee––I will wash and put on fresh linen.”
“And comb thy beautiful hair. If thou but wet it, then it curls so that any girl would envy thee. And all the women would say that it was from thee, Thora got her bright, brown, curly hair.”
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“To comb my hair? That is but a trifle. I will do it to please thee.”
“And thou wilt wet it, to make it curl?”
“That I will do also––to please thee.”
“Then, as we are to dance together, thou wilt put on thy fine white socks, and thy Spanish leather shoes––the pair that have the bright buckles on the instep. Yes, thou wilt do me that great favour.”
“Thou art going too far; I will not do that.”
“Not for thy daughter Thora?” and she laid her cheek against his cheek, and whispered with a kiss, “Yes, thou wilt wear the buckled shoes for Thora. They will look so pretty in the dance: and Wolf Baikie cannot toss his head at thy boots, as he did at Aunt Brodie’s Christmas dinner.”
“Did he do that thing?”
“I saw him, and I would not dance with him because of it.”
“Thou did right. Thy Aunt Barbara–––”
“Is my aunt, and thy eldest sister. All she does is square and upright; what she says, it were well for the rest of the town to take heed to. It would please Aunt if thou showed Wolf Baikie thou had dancing shoes and also knew right well how to step in them.”
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“Well, then, thou shalt have thy way. I will wash, I will comb my hair, I will put on clean linen and white socks and my buckled shoes. That is all I will do! I will not change my suit––no, I will not!”
“Father!”
“Well, then, what call for ‘Father’ now?”
“I want thee to wear thy kirk suit.”
“I will not! No, I will not! The flannel suit is good enough for any man.”
“Yes, if it were clean and sweet, and had no fish scales on it, and no fish smell in it. And even here––at the very end of the world––thy friend, the good Bishop, wears black broadcloth and all gentlemen copy him. If Thora was thy sweetheart, instead of thy own dear daughter, she would not dance with thee in anything but thy best suit.”
“It seems to me, my own dear daughter, that very common people wear kirk toggery. When I go to the hotels in Edinburgh, or Aberdeen, or Inverness, I find all the men who wait on other men are in kirk clothes; and if I go to a theatre, the men who wait on the crowd there wear kirk clothes, and–––”
“Thy Bishop also wears black broadcloth.”
“That will be because of his piety and humility. 23 I am not as pious and humble as I might be. No, indeed! Not in everything can I humour thee, and trouble myself; but this thing is what I will do––I have a new suit of fine blue flannel; last night I brought it home. At McVittie’s it was made, and well it fits me. For thy sake I will wear it. This is the end of our talk. No more will I do.”
“Thou dear father! It is enough! With a thousand kisses I thank thee.”
“Too many kisses! Too many kisses! Thou shalt give me five when we finish our dance; one for my curled hair, and one for my white, fresh linen, and one for my socks, and one for my buckled shoes, and the last for my new blue suit. And in that bargain thou wilt get the best of me, so one favour in return from thee I must have.”
“Dear Father, thy will is my will. What is thy wish?”
“I want thy promise not to dance with Wolf Baikie. Because of his sneer I am coaxed to dress as I do not want to dress. Well, then, I will take his place with thee, and every dance he asks from thee is to be given to me.”
Without a moment’s hesitation Thora replied: “That agreement does not trouble me. It will be 24 to my great satisfaction. So, then, thou art no nearer to getting the best of the bargain.”
“Thou art a clever, handsome little baggage. But my promises I will keep, and it is well for me to be about them. Time flies talking to thee,” and he looked at his watch and said, “It is now five minutes past five.”
“Then thou must make some haste. Dinner is set for six o’clock.”
“Dost thou think I will fiddle-faddle about myself like a woman?”
“But thou must wash–––”
“In the North Sea I wash me every morning. Before thou hast opened thy eyes I have had my bath and my swim in the salt water.”
“There is rain water in thy room; try it for a change.” And he answered her with a roar of laughter far beyond Thora’s power to imitate. But with it ringing in her heart and ears she saw him go to a spare room to keep his promises. Then she hastened to her mother.
“Whatever is the matter with thy father, Thora?”
“He has promised to wash and dress. I got all I asked for.”
“Will he change his suit?”
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“He has a fine new suit. It was hid away in Aunt’s room.”
“What made him do such a childish thing?”
“To please thee, it was done. It was to be a surprise, I think.”
“I will go to him.”
“No, no, Mother! Let father have the pleasure he planned. To thee he will come, as soon as he is dressed.”
“Am I right? From top to toe?”
“From top to toe just as thou should be. The white roses in thy cap look lovely with the violet silk gown. Very pretty art thou, dear Mother.”
“I can still wear roses, but they are white roses now. I used to wear pink, Thora.”
“Pink and crimson and yellow roses thou may wear yet. Because white roses go best with violet I put that colour in thy cap for tonight. Think of what my aunt said when thou complained to her of growing old, ‘Rahal, the mother of twelve sons and daughters is always young.’ Now I will run away, for my father does everything quickly.”
In about ten or fifteen minutes, Rahal Ragnor heard him coming. Then she stood up and watched the swift