Chapter 5

The boxmaster could not answer the question satisfactorily; and the deacon, continuing his arguments, persuasions, promises, and flatteries, at last got the victim to put his name to the bill. Upon the instant the door opened, and Mrs Jean Todd appeared before them. She went forward to the table, and laid her hand upon the document.

"Is that your signature, sir?" said she, looking calmly at her husband.

"Ou ay--I believe, yes--I did put my name to that paper," replied Andrew, in great agitation; "but I thocht ye left me to do as I chose when ye gaed oot. If ye didna want me to sign it, ye shouldna hae left the room."

"A bill is no a bindin document," continued she, without seeming to attend to what the boxmaster said, "until it be delivered. It's no delivered sae lang as it is in my hands; and never will be delivered by me sae lang as I recollect the words o' the wise man o' the east, wha said--'If thou be surety for thy friend, thou art snared with the words o' thy mouth.' Yet this paper is no my property. The stamp is yours, though my husband's name is still his." Turning to the boxmaster, who was shaking and retaining his breath with pure fear--"Do you stand by this, sir," said she, in a commanding voice, which increased his fear, "or do ye repent o't?"

"I repent o't," replied Andrew, with dry lips, and a gurgling of the throat, as if he had been on the eve of choking.

"Then, I fancy," continued Mrs Jean Todd, "ye would like yer name back again?"

"Ou ay--surely," replied Andrew.

"Well, then," said she, as she with the greatest coolness took up her scissors that hung by her side, and with affected precision cut away his name; "there it is"--handing it to him. And turning to the deacon--"The rest is yours, sir--I hae nae richt to meddle wi' your name--there's yer paper"--returning to him the mutilated bill.

At this operation the deacon stared with a stupified look of wonder and contempt. He had never before seen so cool an example of female rule and marital weakness; and his pride, his selfishness, and his spite were all roused and interested by the extraordinary sight. He was too much affected for indulging in a vulgar expression of feelings which could not adequately be expressed by mere language. Taking up his hat, and casting upon the boxmaster a look of sovereign contempt, and upon Mrs Jean Todd one of anger, he bowed as low as a deacon ought to do, and left the room. The circumstance produced no very unpleasant consequences to either the boxmaster or his wife. She, no doubt, reproved him for his stupidity; but the point of her wrath was turned away by the repentance and soft words of her husband, who promised never to do the like again. He had, besides, some defence, arising out of her dubious conduct, which, though quite easily understood, he could not well comprehend. The naïvete of his statement, that "she shouldna hae left him unprotected," was quite enough to have mollified a much sterner woman than Mrs Jean Todd, and during that same night they were a far happier couple than Deacon Waldie and his fair spouse.

When the deacon went home, and reported the extraordinary proceeding to his obedient wife, the grief it occasioned was in some degree overcome, on the part of the husband, by the favourable contrast it enabled him to form between the boxmaster and his wife, and him and his obedient spouse. Mrs Waldie did all in her power to aid the operation; but she did not forget the bill, which her father was pressing hard to procure.

"Surely every man's no under the rule o' his wife," said she, with the view to leading to another cautioner.

"No, God be thanked!" said the deacon, "there are some independent men i' the world besides mysel. Every husband's no _henpecked_. Every man that has a wife doesna 'glory' in being 'pecked by _such_ a hen.'"

"There's William M'Gillavry," said the sly wife, in a soft and unassuming tone; "_he_ is independent o' his wife."

"Do ye mean, Peggy, that I should get him to sign the bill?"

"Na," replied she, "I dinna say that; I merely meant that he was an independent man like you, wha, if _ye asked_ him to do it, wouldna refuse on such a ground as the want o' consent o' his wife. Oh, what will my puir faither do? I canna live if he is in sorrow and perplexity." (Weeping.) "I saw William M'Gillavry yesterday. He asked kindly for ye. Ye haena visited him for a lang time. Twa husbands sae like each other might meet oftener, and twa wives, wha agree in the ae grand point o' submittin to the authority o' their lords and masters, might, wi' advantage, be greater gossips than we hae been."

"Might I try William, think ye, Margaret?" said he.

"My puir advice canna be o' muckle avail to ye," said she; "ye ken best yersel; but I think, _if_ he were asked, he wadna refuse the sma' favour."

"I see you wish me to try him, Peggy," said he; "and I _will_ try him."

Away hastened the deacon to William M'Gillavry. He found him at home; and, as a deacon, was well received. Having opened the subject to him, he found that M'Gillavry was not inclined to become cautioner, unless he got put into his hands some security, that, in the event of his being called upon to pay the money, he might, in the end, be safe. This proposition was not expected by the deacon, who did not possess any portable security that he could give. He endeavoured to get his friend to be satisfied with his own obligation, to keep him scatheless against all the effects of his obligation; but the other would not agree to this, and, pretending to be called away by some one, left the room for a little, promising to be back instantly. In the meantime, the deacon heard a conflict of words in an adjoining apartment, in the course of which several half-sentences met his ear. The wordy war was between William M'Gillavry and his wife. Her notes were shrill and high, and repeatedly she said--"Get my brither John's bill frae him"--"that will do"--"he, puir fallow! canna pay't, at ony rate, and I want to save him frae the hands o' the law." The deacon did not understand this broken conversation; but he could easily perceive that his friend was taking the advice of his wife. The words of old Fleming's ballad of evil wives came into his mind:--

"An evil wyfe is the werst aught That ony man can haif, For he may never sit in saught Onless he be her sklaif."

As he muttered the last words, forgetful of his own case, his friend entered.

"My wife's brither," said he, "has a bill in your corporation's box for £250. You can impledge that in my hands, and I'll sign yer father-in-law's security."

"The corporation's property's no mine," answered the deacon; "I hae, besides, nae power owre't; the bill's i' the box, and Mr Andrew Todd has the key."

"I ken that," replied the other (who was a dishonest man), with a knowing wink; "but ye can easily get haud o' the paper, and I'll gie ye a back letter that I winna use't unless I'm obliged to pay yer father-in-law's debt. Naebody will ever hear o't."

The proposition did not altogether please the deacon, who, though very far from being an upright man, did not care about his frailty being known to another. He said he would think of what had passed between them, and came away. His wife, when he came home, was waiting in the greatest anxiety. Her father had called in the meantime, and told her, that, if he did not get the bill immediately, with two good names upon it, he would be put in jail. This alarmed his daughter, who, if she could save her father, cared little for the ruin of her husband. She heard with deep anguish the announcement of another disappointment. Having been weeping before he came in, her eyes were red and swollen, and the bad intelligence again struck the fountain of her tears, and made her weep and moan bitterly. The deacon was moved at the picture of distress. He had not told her William M'Gillavry's proposition, but only simply that he had refused, unless adequate security were put into his hands. His wife's grief wrung from him every satisfaction he could bestow; for he could not stand and witness the sorrow of his tender and obedient partner, while there remained any chance of ameliorating her anguish.

"There is ae way, Peggy, o' gettin this affair managed," said he, at last.

"What is that?" said she, looking up, and throwing back her curls, which, amidst all her grief, were never forgot.

"William M'Gillavry's wife's brother," said he, "is awin our corporation £250; and his bill for that sum is in our corporation box. He says he would sign the bill to your father, if I gave him his brother-in-law's bill to hauld in security; but I'm no quite sure if that wad be honest."

"Thae things lie far out o' a weak woman's way," said she. "We haena the power o' mind possessed by you men; but, if I were entitled to speak a word on the subject, I would say there was nae dishonesty whar there was nae wrang. Ye ken the signin o' my faither's bill's a mere form; and, if William M'Gillavry's brither-in-law's bill were taen out the box, it would just be put back again. Correct me, my dear Murdoch, if ye think me wrang."

"I dinna think ye're far wrang, Peggy," said the deacon; "but how is William M'Gillavry's brither-in-law's bill to be got out o' our corporation box? There's the difficulty--and I needna ask a woman how that's to be got owre."

"Na, Murdoch--ye needna ask me that question," replied the wife. "It's far beyond the reach o' my puir brain; but, if it's in the power o' ony mortal man to say how a difficulty o' that kind's to be mastered, it is in that o' Murdoch Waldie. Maybe ye may gie't a cast through yer powerfu mind. Oh! if ye saw my distractit faither! He left me just as you cam in, wi' the tears o' sorrow rinnin doun his auld cheeks. Will ye think o't, my dear Murdoch?" (embracing him) "What's weel intended canna be wrang; and what's planned by a mind like yours canna fail."

"I couldna get the key frae Andrew Todd," said the gratified deacon, "unless I told him an untruth."

"A lee for guid has been justified," said the wife. "Rahab was approved for hiding the spies, and denyin their presence; but I couldna ask ye to imitate Rahab. I hae nae richt to dictate to my husband."

"But wouldna ye _wish_ me, my dear Peggy, to stretch a point to get yer faither's tears dried up, and yer ain stopped? Dinna hesitate, Peggy--speak yer mind bauldly--I'll forgie ye."

"Ou ay," whimpered the gentle dame. "If Rahab was justified, sae will Murdoch Waldie be forgiven."

"Weel--I'll try the boxmaster again," said the deacon.

Next day, accordingly, he threw himself in the way of Mr Andrew Todd. The boxmaster had been in the corporation hall, and was returning home to deposit the key of the box in the place where he kept it. The deacon got him inveigled into a public-house, where, when they had seated themselves, he saw that Mr Todd was blushing scarlet, doubtless at the recollection of the scene that had taken place the day before.

"Ye needna be ashamed, Andrew," said the deacon, "at the conduct of Mrs Jean Todd. _Ye_ werena to blame--I assoilzie ye. Think nae mair o't. You can just sign a fresh bill. I'll buy the stamp round the corner at Dickson's, and we can draw it out here."

"I beg yer pardon," replied Andrew; "I maunna get into that scrape again. I'll never resist the authority o' Mrs Jean Todd mair on earth. To her I owe my boxmastership--my trade--my status--my health--my happiness--and a' that's worth livin for in this evil warld; and she will never hae it to say again, that I'm no gratefu for the care she taks o' me, and the love she bears to me. Let the warld say, if they like, that I am henpecked--I dinna care."

"Weel, weel," replied the deacon; "we were speakin o' bills. Are ye quite sure that ye haena allowed the days o' grace in Templeton's bill to expire? There's indorsers there; and if it is as I suspect, ye've lost recourse, and may be liable for the debt."

"Mercy on us!" cried the terrified Andrew. "It's impossible. Dinna say't. Let me count." (Using his fingers). "Count, deacon--count, man."

"I think we had better see the bill itsel," cried the deacon. "Where's the key?"

"Here it is," replied the simple boxmaster, taking it out.

"Give it to me," said the deacon, taking it out of Andrew's hand; "we'll sune see if the bill's past due."

Waldie hurried out of the room, telling Andrew, as he went out, that he would come back, and inform him how the fact stood. The mind of the boxmaster was now too much occupied about the danger of having allowed the days of grace to pass without intimation to the indorsers on the bill, to have any space left for doubting the honesty of the deacon. The suspicion of having been cajoled never approached him; he sat and sipped the liquor that lay before him, occupied all the time in a brown study, with the thought continually rising--"What will Mrs Jean Todd say to my stupidity, in making myself responsible for the amount of Templeton's bill? It will ruin me; and a' her care and prudence will in an instant be scattered to the winds." He still sat, expecting the deacon to return with the required information. Half-an-hour passed, and no deacon came; but a messenger came with a note, stating that all was quite safe, and that, as something had occurred to prevent the writer from returning to the tavern, he had sent that intelligence, to ease his mind, and that he would return the key in the course of the day. Andrew's mind was relieved by this statement; he paid the tavern-keeper for the liquor, and went away, to resume his ordinary occupations.

At dinner-time he went home; and, during the meal, he began talking again about Deacon Waldie.

"After a'," said he, "he is a guid cratur, the deacon. After the usage he got here last nicht, wha could hae thocht he wad hae taen ony interest in my affairs?"

"Ye dinna require an assistant," replied Mrs Jean Todd, "sae lang as I live."

"That's true," replied Andrew; "but the deacon has dune for me what ye couldna hae dune."

"What is that?" inquired the wife.

"He apprised me o' the danger I stood in," replied the boxmaster, "anent Templeton's bill, that's in the corporation box. I had forgotten the date o' its becomin due, and he brocht it to my mind. A's safe yet."

The very word "bill" made Mrs Todd prick up her ears.

"I hae lang thocht," replied she, "that yer corporation papers, at least yer bills, which require greater care than the rest, should be placed here, under my protection. The circumstance that has occurred this day proves that I am richt. Let us awa to the hall this instant, and bring hame a' the papers that are valuable, and for which you may be responsible. Is the key on the hook?"

"No; but I'm on the hook," muttered Andrew to himself, as he began for the first time to suspect he had been duped. "No," said he aloud.

"Give it to me, then," said she. "It will be in yer pocket, dootless."

Andrew began to exhibit symptoms of fear, which were in an instant perceived and understood by the quick-eyed dame, who was accustomed to _look_ for indications of that kind. She saw that something was wrong. He remained silent, and his agitation increased as she fixed upon him her piercing, relentless eye.

"Give me the key, man," said she, in an angry tone.

He still remained silent; his agitation increased, and he trembled in every limb.

"There's something wrang, Andrew," said she. "Tell me what it is. I'm no angry. By tryin to conceal it, ye may ruin us baith; by tellin me, we may hae a chance o' bein saved. Come, now, has Deacon Waldie the key?"

"Ay," said Andrew, in a low tone. "He asked me for't, to see if the bill was past due, and said he would come back wi't; but he never made his appearance."

The good dame said not a word. She saw the necessity for promptitude, and, running to her bedroom, hurriedly dressed herself. In a few minutes she was on her way to the corporation hall. In a few minutes more she arrived; and, having got admittance, placed herself in a recess, where the incorporation box was deposited, and so disposed herself as that she might see whether any person interfered with the treasury. In a short time Deacon Waldie entered the hall, and, with secret furtive steps, approached the box. He looked about him, but did not perceive the dame, who, as she saw him approach, retired back farther into the recess. He took out the key, and applied it to the lock. It was now time for Mrs Todd to save her husband. Starting quickly out of the recess, she walked solemnly and dignifiedly up to the official, before whom she presented herself with a low curtsey.

"How are you, Mr Deacon Waldie?" said she, repeating her curtsey, and looking at him with an eye that pierced him to the heart.

The deacon, who was a great stickler for etiquette, felt himself, as he saw the dame curtseying before him, compelled to return the compliment; but the consciousness of guilt, the cutting satire of the dame's courteous demeanour, the surprise at seeing her there, and his fear of being exposed, all operated so strongly, that his bow was checked, and transformed into a low cringe, making him appear only half his natural size; while the consciousness of rectitude, and the superiority of virtue, swelled out the breast of his silent accuser, and added apparently to her physical proportions. Recovering himself in some degree--

"I was just about to examine our corporation papers," said he, irresolutely. "I like to assist Mr Todd in his _official_ capacity, while _you_ keep him right in his _private_ affairs."

"Between the twa," replied the dame, without changing her countenance, "he maun be weel taen care o'."

As she said this, she quietly and deliberately took the key out of the lock; and into a large red cloth pocket, which hung alongside of a pair of scissors, with which the deacon was already well acquainted (having tested their sharpness), she deposited the important instrument. She then made another low curtsey.

"Guid-day to ye, Mr Deacon Waldie!" she said, as she departed; "mak my best respects to Mrs Deacon Waldie, and to her worthy father."

The deacon stood stiff with amazement, looking after the erect, dignified figure of Mrs Jean Todd, as she walked slowly along the hall of the incorporation to the door.

He skulked off in the best way he could; but she, with erect body and noble carriage, directed her steps homeward, where she found her husband in a state of intense fear and anxiety, both on account of the danger he was exposed to, and of the meeting that was about to take place with his wife. On the latter account, there might apparently have been little reason for apprehension; for their meetings were very unlike those mentioned in the old song--

"Then up scho gate ane mekle rung, And the gudeman he made to the door; Quoth he, 'Dame, I sall hald my tung, For an we fecht, I'll get the woir.'"

Her mode of conducting her rule was different _toto cælo_. She walked into the house with the same erect carriage she usually exhibited, especially when upon duty, and closing the door after her, without using any such jealous precaution as turning the key in the lock--a mode of enforcing the conjugal authority she despised--she went up to the table where her husband sat, with his hand upon his brow. That flag of distress she paid little attention to; for she had often before seen Andrew endeavour to make her own pity plead the cause of his imprudence.

"Here is the key of the treasury-box, Mr Todd," said she.

Andrew was greatly relieved; but wonder took the place of his fear, for he could not conceive how his wife could so soon have got the key out of the hands of the deacon--and yet for certain the key was before his eyes.

"See you that ring?" continued the dame, holding out a steel key-hoop, on which were hung a score of keys, shining as bright as silver, from the eternal motion to which they were exposed in the red pocket of their mistress.

"Ay, weel do I see it," replied Andrew, "and weel do I ken't. It is by that magic ring that a' my guids and gear are girded and prevented frae fa'in into the staves o' that bankruptcy and ruin I threatened this day to bring upon them."

The dame replied nothing to the remark of her husband, though she was inwardly well pleased to see him penitent; but, opening the spring-clasp, she deliberately placed the treasury-box key upon the ring, along with the score of others that had hung there for a score of years. She did not deign to accompany this act by a single word of objurgation. Her faith rested altogether upon the ring, and to have tried to add to the security it afforded her, by impressing her husband with a deeper sense of his imprudence, appeared to her to be sheer supererogation. Opening the entrance to her red "pouch," she consigned, with a suitable admonitory jingle, the whole bunch to the keeping of that huge conservatory of the virtues of "hussyskep." She then resumed her ordinary duties, and Andrew was delighted to have "got off," as he inwardly termed his relief, with so easily-borne a reproof of his weakness and imprudence.

The circumstances we have here narrated became, some time after, known to the public, through what channel it would be difficult to say, although it is not improbable that the boxmaster, vain of the protecting care of his wife, had given some hint of it, which, having been taken advantage of by Deacon Waldie's enemies, gave rise to reports, and latterly to a true exposition of the whole affair. The effect of such a transaction upon the credit of any man could not fail to be ruinous. In a very short time Deacon Waldie became suspected and shunned--no one would trust him, few would deal with him; and, before the termination of the period of his deaconship, he failed--falling thus a victim to that female domination he so much dreaded, and for submitting to which he so much despised his friend the boxmaster.

The fate of Mr Todd was signally different. At the end of the period of his office, there was a special meeting called of the trade, for the purpose of making a vote of thanks to their official, for saving the incorporation-box from spoliation, and presenting him with a small piece of plate, in commemoration of his services. This was a delicate matter. The members knew well to whom they owed the obligation; but they could not, in a public hall, declare that their boxmaster was assisted in his official capacity by his wife, and, therefore, they resolved upon taking no notice of the _real boxmaster_; who, however, like all good wives, would be gratified by the notice that was taken of her husband. The vote of thanks was accordingly moved by the chairman, and supported by a very good speech. Mr Todd rose to reply:--