back to live off your father. Come back like a beaten dog. Ye think it's easier to sponge on me than to work, I suppose.'
A tremor ran through Matthew's frame.
'What!' cried Brodie. 'Are ye cold ? It's the sudden change from the great heat ye've been called upon to endure when you were workin' yourself into the jaundice outbye. Your dear mother will have to get ye some warm clothes out o' these grand, big cases o' yours. I mind weel she was aye plaisterin' ye with flannels when ye were a boy; And now that you're a braw, full-grown man she mustna let ye get a chill. Na! Na! You're too precious and valuable for that.'
He passed up his cup for more tea, remarking, 'I havena made such a good tea for a long time! It fair gives me an appetite to see your pookey face back again.'
Matthew could endure these taunts no longer, and giving up the pretence of eating he got up, mumbling to Mamma in a broken voice:
'I can't stand this any longer. I don't want any tea. I'll away out!'
'Sit down!' thundered Brodie, pushing the other back with his closed fist. 'Sit down, sir. Ye can go when I tell ye to and not before. I'm not done with ye yet.' Then, as Matthew subsided into his seat, he continued cuttingly, 'Are we not to have the privilege of your society, next? Ye've been away two years and yet you canna bide in the house two minutes. Can ye not see that we're all waiting to hear about these wonderful adventures you’ve had out there ? We're just hanging on the words that are ready to drop from your lips. Come on! Tell us all about them.'
'Tell you about what?' answered Matthew sullenly.
'About the grand, excitin' time ye've had outbye. About the rajahs and princes you've been hobnobbin' with about the elephants and the tigers ye've shot tell us quick before ye've time to mak' it up. Yell be a perfect daredevil now, I suppose ? There'll be no end to what ye can do?'
'I can maybe do more than you think,' muttered Matthew under his breath.
'Indeed, now!' sneered Brodie, catching at the other's words. 'You're going to surprise us, are ye? It's the same story as before, always what you're goin' to do. Never what ye've done, mind ye, but always what's comin' off next! Gad! When I look at ye there with that cringin' look about ye and all these fine, flashy clothes on ye, it makes me wonder what ye will do.' His anger rose until it almost choked him, but with an effort he controlled it and continued in his smooth, ironic voice, 'Never mind, though! It's such a treat to have ye back that we mustna be too hard on ye. The main thing is that you've come back safe and sound from all the terrible dangers that ye're too modest to speak about. We must have the notice o' your return put in the Advertiser. Then all your braw friends especially your lady friends will ken that you're home. They'll be swarmin' round ye like flies round a honey pot. That's what ye like, isn't it to have the women pettin' ye and runnin' after ye?'
Matthew made no reply and after a moment's pause Brodie continued, drawing back his lips sardonically:
'I suppose next Sunday that mother o' yours will have ye all toshed up and have ye out at the kirk for the general admiration o' her braw congregation. Ye might even squeeze your way into the choir again, if ye were sleekit enough, to let them all hear your bonnie voke lifted up in praise o' the Lord. It would be a real manly thing to sing in the choir again would it not? Answer me, ye dummy. Do ye hear what I'm sayin' to ye?'
'I'll not sing in any choir,' retorted Matthew, thinking sullenly that it was like his father to bring up this memory of the past and use it derisively to force him into a ridiculous position.
'The prodigal son refuses to sing,' sneered Brodie. 'Did ye ever hear the like o't and him that had the lovely, lovely voice. Well, my fine man,' he continued with a snarl, 'if ye'll not sing for your mother, you'll sing for me. You'll sing to the tune I pipe. Don't think that I can't see through ye. I do! Ye've disgraced yourself and me. Ye hadna the grace to stick to your job like a man ye must come running back home to your soft mother like a beaten cur. But don't think ye can try that with me. Keep yourself in order when I'm about or, by God! it'll be the waur o' ye. Do ye understand what I mean?' He rose from the table abruptly and stood glaring down at his son. 'I'm not finished with ye yet. I'll knock the fancy notions out o' your head before I'm done with ye. I warn ye keep
out of my path, sir, or I'll smash ye down as ye stand. Do ye hear me?'
Matthew, emboldened by seeing that his father was about to go and goaded by the very humiliation of his position, raised his head and looked sideways at the other, muttering:
'I'll keep out of your way, all right.'
Brodie's eye flamed fiercely in return. He grasped Matthew's shoulder.
'You dog!' he shouted. 'Don't look at me like that. Don't dare to do it or I'll break you. You thing that calls yourself by the name o' Brodie. You're a disgrace to me, sir. Yes! A bigger disgrace than your bitch of a sister.' Then, as Matthew's eye again fell, he continued, disgust mingling with his anger, 'It scunners me to think a man of noble blood could beget a whelp like you. You're the first Brodie to be called a coward, but, by God, you are one, none the less. You're a hangdog coward and I'm ashamed o' ye!' He shook his son like a sack of bones, then suddenly relaxed his hold and allowed him to collapse inertly back into the chair.
'Watch what you're about, my man. I'll have my eye on ye,' he cried forbiddingly, as he walked out of the room.
When he had gone Nessie and Grandma continued silently to look at Matthew. But Mamma dropped on her knees beside him and placed her arm around his shoulder,
'Never mind. Matt! Never mind, my own son! I love ye onyway!' she wept.
He thrust down her arm whilst the muscles of his face twitched under the pale skin.
'I'll pay him out yet,' he whispered, as he arose. 'I'll get even with him. If he's not done with me, I'm not done with him.'
'You're not going out now, son,' cried Mrs. Brodie fearfully. 'Ye'll bide in with me to-night, won't you? I want ye to be beside me.'
He shook his head.
'No!' he said, controlling his voice with an effort. 'I must go out.' He licked his dry lips. 'I've got some some old friends to look up. I'm goin' out now. Give me a key.'
'Don't go, son,' she implored. 'Don't let what your father said upset ye. He doesna mean it. He's worried himself. Stay in with your mother now, there's a good lad. Ye've had no tea at all. Stay in and I'll make ye something nice. I love ye, Matt. I love ye so much I would do anything for ye!'
'Give me the key, then,' he replied. 'That's what I want.'
Silently she gave him her own key. He thrust it into his pocket, saying, 'I'll be late! Don't sit up for me.'
She followed him, wavering in fear, to the door. 'Ye'll be careful, Matt, won't ye. Keep out o' mischief for my sake, son. Don't let him drive ye to anything rash. I couldna bear it now that you're safely back to me.'
He made no reply but was gone, disappearing rapidly into the darkness beyond. Her ears followed his steps until they died into the quiet of the night, then, with a short, dry sob, she turned and went back to the kitchen. She did not know what was going to happen, but she feared exceedingly.
VIII
NEXT morning Mrs. Brodie woke early, while it was still almost dark, but as she stirred she heard in the distance the first faint, challenging cock crow, betokening, despite the obscurity, the imminent dawn of another day. Although she had waited up late on the night before, she had not seen Matthew come in and now, after a troubled sleep, her first thought was to assure herself that he was
well. As she dressed there was no need for her to be timorously silent for fear of disturbing her husband, since she was now alone in the small room that had been Mary's, yet from long habit her actions were as stealthy and inaudible as the movements of a shadow. The dim light entered the window of the bedroom and vaguely revealed her ghostly, drooping figure as she shivered into her clothes. Her underclothing was so patched, darned and repaired as to become at any time a puzzle to assume and now, in the cold obscurity of the chill February air, her insensitive, roughened fingers fumbled confusedly with the coarse, worn garments. As she dressed thus, by sense of touch, her teeth chattered slightly, giving the sole audible indication of her presence and activity.
When she had covered her body, she rubbed her hands soundlessly together to induce some sign of circulation and slid out of the room in her stocking feet.
