The Little Minister

“You mean the wrong woman, don’t you, mother?” he said, and she hastened to agree. But it was the wrong man she meant.

“The difficulty, I suppose, is to hit upon the right one?” Gavin said, blithely.

“To know which is the right one in time,” answered Margaret, solemnly. “But I am saying nothing against the young ladies of Thrums, Gavin. Though I have scarcely seen them, I know there are good women among them. Jean says – ”

“I believe, mother,” Gavin interposed, reproachfully, “that you have been questioning Jean about them?”

“Just because I was afraid – I mean because I fancied – you might be taking a liking to one of them.”

“And what is Jean’s verdict?”

“She says every one of them would jump at you, like a bird at a berry.”

“But the berry cannot be divided. How would Miss Pennycuick please you, mother?”

“Gavin!” cried Margaret, in consternation, “you don’t mean to – But you are laughing at me again.”

“Then there is the banker’s daughter?”

“I can’t thole her.”

“Why, I question if you ever set eyes on her, mother.”

“Perhaps not, Gavin; but I have suspected her ever since she offered to become one of your tract distributors.”

“The doctor,” said Gavin, not ill-pleased, “was saying that either of these ladies would suit me.”

“What business has he,” asked Margaret, vindictively, “to put such thoughts into your head?”

“But he only did as you are doing. Mother, I see you will never be satisfied without selecting the woman for me yourself.”

“Ay, Gavin,” said Margaret, earnestly; “and I question if I should be satisfied even then. But I am sure I should be a better guide to you than Dr. McQueen is.”

“I am convinced of that. But I wonder what sort of woman would content you?”

“Whoever pleased you, Gavin, would content me,” Margaret ventured to maintain. “You would only take to a clever woman.”

“She must be nearly as clever as you, mother.”

“Hoots, Gavin,” said Margaret, smiling, “I’m not to be caught with chaff. I am a stupid, ignorant woman.”

“Then I must look out for a stupid, ignorant woman, for that seems to be the kind I like,” answered Gavin, of whom I may confess here something that has to be told sooner or later. It is this: he never realised that Babbie was a great deal cleverer than himself. Forgive him, you who read, if you have any tolerance for the creature, man.

“She will be terribly learned in languages,” pursued Margaret, “so that she may follow you in your studies, as I have never been able to do.”

“Your face has helped me more than Hebrew, mother,” replied Gavin. “I will give her no marks for languages.”

“At any rate,” Margaret insisted, “she must be a grand housekeeper, and very thrifty.”

“As for that,” Gavin said, faltering a little, “one can’t expect it of a mere girl.”

“I should expect it,” maintained his mother.

“No, no; but she would have you,” said Gavin, happily, “to teach her housekeeping.”

“It would be a pleasant occupation to me, that,” Margaret admitted. “And she would soon learn: she would be so proud of her position as mistress of a manse.”

“Perhaps,” Gavin said, doubtfully. He had no doubt on the subject in his college days.

“And we can take for granted,” continued his mother, “that she is a lassie of fine character.”

“Of course,” said Gavin, holding his head high, as if he thought the doctor might be watching him.

“I have thought,” Margaret went on, “that there was a great deal of wisdom in what you said at that last marriage in the manse, the one where, you remember, the best man and the bridesmaid joined hands instead of the bride and bridegroom.”

“What did I say?” asked the little minister, with misgivings.

“That there was great danger when people married out of their own rank of life.”

“Oh – ah – well, of course, that would depend on circumstances.”

“They were wise words, Gavin. There was the sermon, too, that you preached a month or two ago against marrying into other denominations. Jean told me that it greatly impressed the congregation. It is a sad sight, as you said, to see an Auld Licht lassie changing her faith because her man belongs to the U. P.’s.”

“Did I say that?”

“You did, and it so struck Jean that she told me she would rather be an old maid for life, ‘the which,’ she said, ‘is a dismal prospect,’ than marry out of the Auld Licht kirk.”

“Perhaps that was a rather narrow view I took, mother. After all, the fitting thing is that the wife should go with her husband; especially if it is he that is the Auld Licht.”

“I don’t hold with narrowness myself, Gavin,” Margaret said, with an effort, “and admit that there are many respectable persons in the other denominations. But though a weaver might take a wife from another kirk without much scandal, an Auld Licht minister’s madam must be Auld Licht born and bred. The congregation would expect no less. I doubt if they would be sure of her if she came from some other Auld Licht kirk. ’Deed, though she came from our own kirk, I’m thinking the session would want to catechise her. Ay, and if all you tell me of Lang Tammas be true (for, as you know, I never spoke to him), I warrant he would catechise the session.”

“I would brook no interference from my session,” said Gavin, knitting his brows, “and I do not consider it necessary that a minister’s wife should have been brought up in his denomination. Of course she would join it. We must make allowance, mother, for the thousands of young women who live in places where there is no Auld Licht kirk.”

“You can pity them, Gavin,” said Margaret, “without marrying them. A minister has his congregation to think of.”

“So the doctor says,” interposed her son.

“Then it was just like his presumption!” cried Margaret. “A minister should marry to please himself.”

“Decidedly he should,” Gavin agreed, eagerly, “and the bounden duty of the congregation is to respect and honour his choice. If they forget that duty, his is to remind them of it.”

“Ah, well, Gavin,” said Margaret, confidently, “your congregation are so fond of you that your choice would doubtless be theirs. Jean tells me that even Lang 194 Tammas, though he is so obstinate, has a love for you passing the love of woman. These were her words. Jean is more sentimental than you might think.”

“I wish he would show his love,” said Gavin, “by contradicting me less frequently.”

“You have Rob Dow to weigh against him.”

“No; I cannot make out what has come over Rob lately. He is drinking heavily again, and avoiding me. The lightning is becoming very vivid.”