“--I’ll serve you the same as I serve him--and that’s no sweet service, I’ll warrant.”
As the keeper ended, he brought down his fist on the table with such a bang, that poor Jamie almost fell off the stool on which he sat in the corner.
“But let him off just this once,” pleaded Turkey, “and I’ll be surety for him that he’ll never do it again.”
“Oh, as to him, I’m not afraid of him,” returned the keeper; “but will you be surety for the fifty boys that’ll only make game of me if I don’t make an example of him? I’m in luck to have caught him. No, no, Turkey; it won’t do, my man. I’m sorry for his father and his mother, and his sister Elsie, for they’re all very good people; but I must make an example of him.”
At mention of his relatives Jamie burst into another suppressed howl.
“Well, you won’t be over hard upon him anyhow: will you now?” said Turkey.
“I won’t pull his skin _quite_ over his ears,” said Adam; “and that’s all the promise you’ll get out of me.”
The tall thin grim sister had sat all the time as if she had no right to be aware of anything that was going on, but her nose, which was more hooked than her brother’s, and larger, looked as if, in the absence of eyes and ears, it was taking cognizance of everything, and would inform the rest of the senses afterwards.
I had a suspicion that the keeper’s ferocity was assumed for the occasion, and that he was not such an ogre as I had considered him. Still, the prospect of poor little Jamie spending the night alone in the loft amongst the cats and rats was sufficiently dreadful when I thought of my midnight awaking in the barn. There seemed to be no help, however, especially when Turkey rose to say good night.
I felt disconsolate, and was not well pleased with Turkey’s coolness. I thought he had not done his best.
“Poor Elsie!” I said; “she’ll be miserable about Jamie.”
“Oh no,” returned Turkey. “I’ll go straight over and tell her. No harm will come to Jamie. John Adam’s bark is a good deal worse than his bite. Only I should have liked to take him home if I could.”
It was now twilight, and through the glimmering dusk we walked back to the manse. Turkey left me at the gate and strode on towards the village; while I turned in, revolving a new scheme which had arisen in my brain, and for the first time a sense of rivalry with Turkey awoke in my bosom. He did everything for Elsie Duff, and I did nothing. For her he had robbed the bees’ nest that very day, and I had but partaken of the spoil. Nay, he had been stung in her service; for, with all my care--and I think that on the whole I had done my best--he had received what threatened to be a bad sting on the back of his neck. Now he was going to comfort her about her brother whom he had failed to rescue; but what if I should succeed where he had failed, and carry the poor boy home in triumph!