The merry, confiding little creature formed such a contrast
to his own surly, unyielding temper, that, perhaps, that very
circumstance made the bond of union between them. When in the house,
the little boy was seldom out of his arms, and whatever were
Malcolm's faults, he had none in the eyes of the child, who used to
cling around his neck, and kiss his rough, unshaven cheeks with the
greatest fondness.
"If I could afford it, Moodie," he said one day to my husband,
"I should like to marry. I want some one upon whom I could vent
my affections." And wanting that some one in the form of woman,
he contented himself with venting them upon the child.
As the spring advanced, and after Jacob left us, he seemed ashamed
of sitting in the house doing nothing, and therefore undertook to
make us a garden, or "to make garden," as the Canadians term
preparing a few vegetables for the season. I procured the necessary
seeds, and watched with no small surprise the industry with which
our strange visitor commenced operations. He repaired the broken
fence, dug the ground with the greatest care, and laid it out with a
skill and neatness of which I had believed him perfectly incapable.
In less than three weeks, the whole plot presented a very pleasing
prospect, and he was really elated by his success.
"At any rate," he said, "we shall no longer be starved on bad flour
and potatoes. We shall have peas, and beans, and beets, and carrots,
and cabbage in abundance; besides the plot I have reserved for
cucumbers and melons."
"Ah," thought I; "does he, indeed, mean to stay with us until the
melons are ripe?" and my heart died within me, for he not only was a
great additional expense, but he gave a great deal of additional
trouble, and entirely robbed us of all privacy, as our very parlour
was converted into a bed-room for his accommodation; besides that, a
man of his singularly dirty habits made a very disagreeable inmate.
The only redeeming point in his character, in my eyes, was his
love for Dunbar. I could not entirely hate a man who was so fondly
attached to my child. To the two little girls he was very cross,
and often chased them from him with blows.
He had, too, an odious way of finding fault with everything. I never
could cook to please him; and he tried in the most malicious way to
induce Moodie to join in his complaints. All his schemes to make
strife between us, however, failed, and were generally visited
upon himself. In no way did he ever seek to render me the least
assistance. Shortly after Jacob left us, Mary Pine was offered
higher wages by a family at Peterborough, and for some time I was
left with four little children, and without a servant. Moodie always
milked the cows, because I never could overcome my fear of cattle;
and though I had occasionally milked when there was no one else in
the way, it was in fear and trembling.
Moodie had to go down to Peterborough; but before he went, he begged
Malcolm to bring me what water and wood I required, and to stand by
the cattle while I milked the cows, and he would himself be home
before night.
He started at six in the morning, and I got the pail to go and milk.
Malcolm was lying upon his bed, reading.
"Mr. Malcolm, will you be so kind as to go with me to the fields for
a few minutes while I milk?"
"Yes!" (then, with a sulky frown), "but I want to finish what I am
reading."
"I will not detain you long."
"Oh, no! I suppose about an hour. You are a shocking bad milker."
"True; I never went near a cow until I came to this country;
and I have never been able to overcome my fear of them."
"More shame for you! A farmer's wife, and afraid of a cow!
Why, these little children would laugh at you."
I did not reply, nor would I ask him again. I walked slowly to
the field, and my indignation made me forget my fear. I had just
finished milking, and with a brimming pail was preparing to climb
the fence and return to the house, when a very wild ox we had came
running with headlong speed from the wood. All my fears were alive
again in a moment. I snatched up the pail, and, instead of climbing
the fence and getting to the house, I ran with all the speed I could
command down the steep hill towards the lake shore; my feet caught
in a root of the many stumps in the path, and I fell to the ground,
my pail rolling many yards a-head of me. Every drop of my milk was
spilt upon the grass. The ox passed on. I gathered myself up and
returned home. Malcolm was very fond of new milk, and he came to
meet me at the door.
"Hi! hi! - Where's the milk?"
"No milk for the poor children to-day," said I, showing him the
inside of the pail, with a sorrowful shake of the head, for it was
no small loss to them and me.
"How the devil's that? So you were afraid to milk the cows. Come
away, and I will keep off the buggaboos."
"I did milk them - no thanks to your kindness, Mr. Malcolm - but - "
"But what?"
"The ox frightened me, and I fell and spilt all the milk."
"Whew! Now don't go and tell your husband that it was all my fault;
if you had had a little patience, I would have come when you asked
me, but I don't choose to be dictated to, and I won't be made a
slave by you or any one else."
"Then why do you stay, sir, where you consider yourself so treated?"
said I. "We are all obliged to work to obtain bread; we give you the
best share - surely the return we ask for it is but small."
"You make me feel my obligations to you when you ask me to do
anything; if you left it to my better feelings we should get on
better."
"Perhaps you are right.
