VIII
SUNDAY afternoon still held for Brodie the indulgence of an afternoon repose, for although he rose late and did not dine until two, custom died hard with him, and the blank hours from three until five found him invariably in his shirt sleeves and upon his back upon the sofa. It was not, however, the parlour sofa, but the couch within the kitchen upon which he rested; the other room was still hallowed to Nessie's studies, which were pursued on this day of rest with an intensity equal to that of week days, and he considered that it was a sacrifice on his part savouring of the heroic to have suggested and carried into effect this transference of his repose to a less dignified settee.
On this Sunday the hot July sun had made him feel drowsy and, having seen his younger daughter begin upon her work, exhorting her the more strongly in the face of the nearness of the great day of examination next week, he now laid himself down with the air of one who must not be disturbed, and allowed the drone of a fly upon the window to lull him into sleep.
It was, as he had just impressed upon Nessie, the last lap of the race, and whilst he snored in the happy consciousness of having done his part towards success by relinquishing the parlour, she addressed herself with a slightly feverish mind, towards her final perusal of the third book of Euclid. Her face was, flushed from the heat inside the parlour, and a buzzing of insects, like that which had sent Brodie so comfortably to sleep, annoyed her and distracted her mind from its intent purpose. She had never been quite sure of her geometry and now, with the examination coming off in a few days' time, her deficiencies in this subject had intimidated her and impelled her to rush once more through the entire third book. She knotted her brow and moved her lips as she again began to cram the eighth proposition into her brain but, despite her concentration, the words upon the page wavered, the diagrams became blurred, and the lines ran into strange fantastic shapes, not unlike the eccentric figures which had lately filled her troubled dreams and tormented her at nights in her sleep. The axis of the angle to the vertical was the coefficient of no, no, what was she talking about that was perfect nonsense! She must stick into it better than that, or the Latta would slip out of this pocket of hers where it so safely reposed and run away like a white mouse that would quickly nibble up all these golden sovereigns like so much cheese. How hot it was! And how her head ached! Her English was excellent, Latin perfect, French quite good, algebra splendid yes, she was a clever girl, everybody said so, and indeed the examiners for the Bursary would realise it the moment they set eyes upon her. When she had made her way proudly and confidently to school on the day of an examination she had, in the consciousness of her eminence, always felt that people whispered to one another, saying, 'That's Nessie Brodie! She's the cleverest scholar in the Academy; shell come out first in this test as sure as her name's Brodie.' Perhaps the professors at the University would put their heads together and talk like that; at least they would do so after they had read her papers. They must do so! or her father would want to know the reason of it. Indeed, if they failed to recognise who she was and to give her the first place, he would knock their heads together for them like so many coconuts. Coconuts! Matt had promised to bring her some when he had left for India and she had wanted a monkey and a parrot too, but he had somehow forgotten about them, and now that he had gone off with that terrible woman, he would never remember about a wee thing like Nessie Brodie. Had he married Nancy? She did not know; but Nancy was wicked, even if Matt had put a ring on her finger; and not like Mary, who was good and kind to her. Yet Mary was not married, although she had somehow had a baby which was dead and never mentioned by any one. Mary never spoke of it, but had a sadness about her face as though there was something on her mind that she could never forget. Mary was always running after her, giving her soup and eggs and milk, cuddling her and telling her not to work so hard.
Mary wanted her to win the Latta, but in a reasonable way, and simply to prevent her from being hurt by their father. Her dear sister would cry if she did not win it and yet she need not cry. If she failed it would be a wonderful idea never to tell Mary, to let the years run on and never say a single word about it. What was she thinking of? There must be no failing! If she was not sitting high up in that first place 'at the top of the class' as her father had always called it, she herself would have to take the consequences. 'I'll wring that thin neck of yours if you let anybody beat ye and after the way I've coached ye on for't' That was what he was always dinning into her ears between his spells of petting and wheedling. He had big hands!
The axis of the angle to the vertical really it was the height of absurdity that she should be doing this on such a hot day, and on the Sabbath day too, when she might have been at the Bible Class with the white frock and the pink sash that Mamma had made for her. But that was worn out or grown out of now; she was getting a big girl. Yet Mamma had always liked her to go to Sunday school with kid gloves and her face washed after dinner. 'Lad and lass, kiss and cas', Nessie's in the Bible Class.' She was not in it now though, but working hard, ever so hard at her lessons 'Yes Father, I'm stickin' in hard. What I'm doin', I'm doin' weel.' Mamma had liked her to please Father, but Mamma was dead. She had no mother and Mary had no baby! Mamma and Mary's baby were together sitting on a cloud, waving to her, and singing, 'Nessie Brodie's going to win the Latta.' She wanted to join in the chorus with all her might, but something tightened her throat and restrained her. Lately she had not been so sure of herself. No! It was a big thing for a girl, and a Brodie at that, to win the Latta. A big thing rand a difficult thing! She had been sure of it at first, so much so that at one time the heap of golden guineas had lain piled upon her plate for every one to see and admire. But now a dreadful, secret doubt was creeping into her mind as to whether she could do it. No one knew about it that was a comfort and no one would ever know.
'Yes, Father, I'm getting on splendid couldn't be better. That Grierson hasn't got a chance. I'm the stumbling block. The Latta's mine already.' He was pleased at that, rubbing his hands together and smiling at her approvingly and it was fine for her to feel that she was pleasing him! She would hide everything so cleverly and carefully that he would never see that she was not sure of herself.
She had her own ways of doing things, the clever girl that she was! She was inside her own mind now, creeping about the passages of her brain, admiring, congratulating herself, seeing her very thoughts flow with a marvellous rippling fluency, watching them delightedly as they flashed past her like brilliant, rushing waves of scintillating light.
At last she started suddenly, her eyes lost their vacancy, her face its smooth, unruffled placidity and, as she rubbed her brows with her hand and looked at the clock, she murmured, confusedly, 'Good sakes! What have I been thinking about ? Have I been asleep or what? There's an hour gone and I can't mind a thing about it!' She shook her head with annoyance at her own weakness, at the loss of this
precious hour, and was once more about to apply herself to the Book of Euclid when the door opened quietly and her sister came into the room.
'Here's a glass of milk for you, dear,' whispered Mary, tiptoeing up to the table. 'Father's asleep now, so I thought I might bring you this. It's cold as can be. I've had the jug in running water for an hour.'
Nessie took the glass from her sister and began to sip it in an absent fashion.
'It's cool as cool,' she replied, after a moment. 'It's as good as ice cream on a day like this. Did you ever feel it so close?'
Mary pressed her palm lightly against her sister's cheek.
'You're hot!' she murmured. 'Will you not take a half an hour off and come out in the air with me?'
'And what would happen to me if he woke up and found I had gone out?' queried Nessie, with a sharp look. 'You know you would get it worse than me, too! No! I'll stay where I am. This milk is cooling me fine. Besides, I've got all this book to get through before Friday.'
'How is the headache now?' said Mary after a pause, during which she contemplated the other with some anxiety.
'Just the same! It doesn't feel like a headache now. It's more a numbness.'
'Would you like me to put on some more cold water and vinegar cloths for you?'
'Never mind, Mary! I don't think they do much good. I'll be better after next Saturday when I've got the exam. over. That's the only thing that'll cure it.'
'Is there nothing you can think of that you'd like?'
'No! There's nothing I fancy at all. It's real kind of you though, Mary. You've been wonderful to me and you've had to put up with so much yourself. But I could never have done without you.'
'I've done nothing,' replied Mary sadly. 'I would like to have done much more. I wish I could have stopped you
