'I would have liked a drop broth to-day,' he replied with a shadow of displeasure. 'There's a nip in the air already; still, if ye haven't got any, that's all about it. Where's the potatoes, then?'
'I hadna time to make any potatoes for ye to-day. I've been fair rushed off my feet. Ye canna expect me to do everything for ye a' days, and dippin' my hands in cold dirty water to peel potatoes is what I've never been used to. Ye were glad enough to get a simpler dinner than that when ye used to come in to see me at the Winton Arms, and things are no better off with ye now. Eat it up and be content, man!'
The pupils of his eyes dilated as he looked at her, his lips shaped themselves to an angry reply, but with an effort he restrained himself, helped himself from the plate before him, and, taking a slice of bread, began his meal. She stood beside him for a moment, her hands upon her hips, flaunting her figure near to him, filled by the conscious sense of her power over him until, as Grandma Brodie entered the room, she flounced back into the scullery.
The old woman came forward to the table with a half -bemused expression upon her sallow, wrinkled visage and as she sat down, murmured to herself, 'Teh! these things again'; but at her scarcely perceptible words Brodie turned and, showing his teeth at her in his old manner, snarled:
'What harm have the sausages done ? If ye don't like plain, honest meat ye can go to the poorhouse, and if ye do like it then shut your auld girnin' mouth!'
At his words, and more especially at the accompanying glance, she at once subsided into herself, and with her tremulous hands began, but without much eagerness, to assist herself to the food she had so indiscreetly condemned. Her ageing, muddled brain, incapable of fully comprehending the significance of the changes around her, accepted only the fact that she was now uncomfortable, presented with scanty, unpalatable meals, and as her weak jaws champed with a dry disrelish she vented her displeasure in quick, darting glances towards the hidden presence in the scullery.
After a few moments during which the two ate in silence, Brodie paused suddenly in his indifferent mastication, raised his head slightly at the light sound of some one entering the house and, fixing his eyes upon the door leading to the hall, waited expectantly for the entry of Nessie. She came in immediately and, although Brodie resumed his eating mechanically, he followed her everywhere about the room with his eyes. She slipped the thin elastic from under her chin and released her plain straw hat, threw this upon the sofa, discarded her blue serge jacket and laid it beside the hat, fluffed out her light flaxen hair and finally subsided in her chair beside him. She sat back in her chair languidly, surveying the table with a faint childish air of petulance, saying nothing, but feeling in her own mind that the sight of the solidifying grease before her had removed what little appetite she had possessed, that though she might have eaten, and enjoyed perhaps, a little stewed mince or even a small lamb chop, now she turned from the very thought of food. At her present age of fifteen years she had reached that period of her life when her budding and developing body required an additional attention, a more selective dietary, and though she realised nothing of this she felt instinctively, with her slightly throbbing head and the onset of her significant though unmentionable malaise, that it was an injustice to present her with the food she now surveyed. As she rested thus, her father, who had observed her continuously since her entry, spoke; with an unchanged face but in a voice which he tried to render light, persuasive, he said:
'Come on now, Nessie dear, and get your dinner begun. Don't sit and let it get cold. A big lassie like you should be hungry as a hunter and dashin' in for her meals as though she could eat the house up!'
At his words she came out of her meditation and at once began to obey, murmuring in explanation, almost apologetically:
'I've got a headache, Father, just right on the front of my brow, like a strap goin' round it,' and she pointed listlessly to her forehead.
'Come, come now, Nessie,' he replied in a low tone which could not carry to the scullery, 'you're aye talkin' about that headache. If you're always crying 'wolf, wolf well not be believing you when it does come to the bit. So long as ye don't have the strap on the palm o' your hand ye shouldna mind it on the front o' your head.'
'But it ties my brow so tight sometimes,' she murmured mildly; 'like a tight band.'
'Tut! tut! It's the brain behind that matters, no' the brow, my girl. Ye should be thankful that ye're so well equipped in that respect.' Then, as she began negligently to eat, he continued with extravagant approval, 'That's better. Ye canna work without food. Take your fill o' whatever is goin'. Hard work should give a young lass like you an appetite, and hunger's guid kitchen.' He suddenly shot a rancorous glance at his mother as he added harshly, 'I'm pleased ye're not so particular and fasteedious as some folks.'
Nessie, gratified that she was pleasing him and unfolding to some extent at his praise, redoubled her flagging efforts to eat but regarded him from time to time with a strained look in her eye as he continued reminiscently:
'When I was your age, Nessie, I could have eaten an ox when I came rushin' in from the fields for my dinner. I was a hardy chiel ay ready for what I could get. I could never get enough, though, No! No! Things were different for me than they are for you, Nessie! I didna have your chance. Tell me,' he murmured confidentially, 'how are things goin’ to-day?'
'Quite well,' she replied automatically.
'You're still top of the class,' he insisted.
'Oh! Father,' she expostulated, 'I'm tired of explaining to you that we don't have that sort of thing now. I've told you half a dozen times in the last three months that it all goes by quarterly examinations.' With a faint note of vanity in her voice she added, 'Surely you understand that I’m past that stage now.'
'Ay! ay!' he hastily replied. 'I was forgettin' that a big girl and a fine scholar like you wouldna have to be fashed wi' such childish notions. True enough, it's examinations that you and me are concerned with.' He paused, then in a sly tone remarked, 'How long have we now till the big one?'
'About six months, I suppose,' she answered half-heartedly, as she pallidly continued her meal.
'That's just fine,' he retorted. 'No' that long to wait and yet plenty of time for ye to prepare. Ye can't say ye havena had warnin' o't.' He whispered almost inaudibly:
'Ay! I'll keep ye to it, lass you and me'll win the Latta between us.'
At this point old Grandma Brodie, who had been sitting expectantly for a second course to follow and who, regardless of the conversation, had been itching, but afraid, to say, 'Is there nothin' else comin'' or 'Is this a' we're to get', at last abandoned hope; with a resigned but muffled sigh she scraped back her chair from the table, raised her stiff form, and dragged disconsolately from the kitchen. As she passed through the door she was unhappily aware that little comfort was in her, that in the sanctuary of her room two empty tins awaited her like rifled and unreplenished tabernacles mutely proclaiming the prolonged absence of her favourite Deesides and her beloved oddfellows.
Wrapped in the contemplation of his daughter, Brodie did not observe his mother's departure, but remarked in a tone that was almost coaxing:
'Have ye no news at all then, Nessie ? Surely some one said something to ye. Did nobody tell ye again that ye were a clever lass? I'll warrant that ye got extra good marks for your home work,' It was as though he besought her to inform him of some commendation, some pleasing attribute bestowed upon the daughter of James Brodie; then, as she shook her head negatively, his eye darkened to a sudden thought and he burst out savagely, 'They havena been talkin' about your father, have they, any o' these young whelps? I daresay they listen to what the backbitin' scum o' their elders might be say in 1 , but if they come over a thing to ye, just let me know. And dinna believe it. Keep your head up, high up. Remember who ye are that you're a Brodie and demand your due. Show them what that means. Ay and ye will show them, my girl, when ye snap awa' wi' the Latta from under their snivellin' nebs.' He paused; then, with a twitching cheek, bit out at her, 'Has that young brat o' Grierson's been makin' any of his sneakin' remarks to ye?'
She shrank back timidly from him, exclaiming, 'No, no, Father! Nobody has said anything, Father. Everybody is as kind as can be. Mrs. Paxton gave me some chocolate when she met me going down the road.'
'Oh! She did, did she?' He hesitated, digesting the information; apparently it disagreed with him, for he sneered: 'Well, tell her to keep her braw presents the next time. Say we have all we want here. If ye're wantin' sweeties, like a big saftie, could ye not have asked me for them? Do ye not know that every scandalmonger in the town is just gaspin' for the chance to run us down? 'He canna afford to give his own daughter a bit sweetie next that's what we'll be hearin' to-morrow, and by the time it gets to the Cross they'll be makin' out that I'm starvin' ye.' His annoyance was progressive and he worked himself up to a climax, crying: 'Bah! Ye should have had more
