The Making of Mary | Page 8

"I came home all tired out," she went on, sinking into the chair beside
mine, "and looking through the nursery window, there sat Mary Mason
with our little Chrissie on her knee. The two faces in the firelight
looked so much alike that my heart gave a great thump, and I vowed
that girl should never be set adrift again. This is the second time she
has been cast upon my shore, and I must see to her."
So Mary Mason dropped into our family circle without anybody having
very much to say in the matter--except my mother!
"Wha's yon 'at Eesabell's ta'en up wi' the noo?"
"Her name's Mason," said I; "Mary Mason."

"I h'ard yer wife was thinkin' o' keepin' a hoosemaid, but I didna expeck
tae see her pap hersel' doon at the table wi' the fem'ly."
"She's not a housemaid. She's just staying with us for a while."
"Ye'd think Eesabell micht hae eneugh adae wi' her ain, 'thoot takin' in
ony strangers."
"But Mary is to help with the housework, in return for her board and
clothes."
"Let her wear a kep an' apron, then, an' eat wi' Marg'et."
"Margaret might object," and I laughed at the probable dismay of our
stalwart, rough-and-ready five-foot-tenner, should this ladyfied blonde
permanently invade her domain.
"Hoo lang's she gaun to st'y?"
"That's more than I can tell you."
When Mary had been a week in the house, it became apparent that
something must be done with her.
"She's bound she'll not go back to the public school, Dave, and yet she
cannot read or write. Do you think we can afford to send her to
boarding-school--to a convent, for instance, where she'd be well looked
after, and allowances made for her backwardness?"
Belle and I were out driving together. It was the first springlike evening
we had had, and I was trying Jim Atwood's new mare on Maple
Avenue, which had been newly block-paved. So engrossed was I in
watching her paces I did not reply to my wife at once, and she
continued:
"You were going to get me a horse and a victoria this spring, but I'm
willing to give them up to send Mary to school."
"Please yourself, my dear. You would be the one to use the turnout. I'm

content to borrow from my friends. Isn't she a beauty?"
Belle came out of space to answer me.
"Yes, just now; but she'll not be when she's old. Her features are not
good at all; her forehead's too narrow, and her nose too broad. Were it
not for her lovely hair and complexion, she'd have nothing to brag
about but a pair of very ordinary blue eyes."
"Who? The mare?"
"Don't be stupid, Dave, and do attend to what I am saying. I hardly ever
have a chance to speak to you, goodness knows!"
"You get the editorial ear oftener and longer than anybody else."
"Lend it to me now, then. Don't you think a convent would be the best
place for Mary?"
"Perhaps--as there are no theosophical educational institutions that we
know about."
"Mary isn't far enough on for theosophist yet. She'll have to come back
many times before she is. The Roman Catholic Church is on her plane
this incarnation."
"It does seem to catch the masses, that's a fact, whereas your theosophy
doesn't appear to be practicable for uneducated people nor for
children."
"I don't agree with you there."
"Then why were you so anxious to send Watty to a church school to
finish his education, and why are you on the lookout already for a
boarding-school for the two girls where they will have the best of
Christian influences? What is your object in being so particular that the
younger boys are regular in their attendance at our surpliced choir?"
"It gives them a good idea of music--but that is not the point just now.

Can we afford to send Mary Mason to a convent, or can we not?"
"Choose between her and the buggy mare 'suitable for a lady to drive,'"
said I; but in reality it was my mother who settled the question.
When we came home that evening she was sitting by the fireside,
"Nursin' her wrath to keep it warm."
"Ye maun either pit yon hizzy oot the hoose, or I'll hitta gang."
"What's the matter now, mother?"
"I tell't her to brush the boys' bits tae be ready for the schule in the
mornin'. They were thrang wi' their lessons an' she wasna daein' a han's
turn."
"And what did she say?"
"S'y! I wush ye'd seen the leuk she gi'ed me!"
"The boys can brush their ain bits," said she; "I'm no' their servant."
I laughed.
"It's well seen she hasn't been brought up in Scotland, or she