Robert Falconer. George MacDonald

CHAPTER IV. SHARGAR.

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      Robert went out into the thin drift, and again crossing the wide desolate-looking square, turned down an entry leading to a kind of court, which had once been inhabited by a well-to-do class of the townspeople, but had now fallen in estimation. Upon a stone at the door of what seemed an outhouse he discovered the object of his search.

      'What are ye sittin' there for, Shargar?'

      Shargar is a word of Gaelic origin, applied, with some sense of the ridiculous, to a thin, wasted, dried-up creature. In the present case it was the nickname by which the boy was known at school; and, indeed, where he was known at all.

      'What are ye sittin' there for, Shargar? Did naebody offer to tak ye in?'

      'Na, nane o' them. I think they maun be a' i' their beds. I'm most dreidfu' cauld.'

      The fact was, that Shargar's character, whether by imputation from his mother, or derived from his own actions, was none of the best. The consequence was, that, although scarcely one of the neighbours would have allowed him to sit there all night, each was willing to wait yet a while, in the hope that somebody else's humanity would give in first, and save her from the necessity of offering him a seat by the fireside, and a share of the oatmeal porridge which probably would be scanty enough for her own household. For it must be borne in mind that all the houses in the place were occupied by poor people, with whom the one virtue, Charity, was, in a measure, at home, and amidst many sins, cardinal and other, managed to live in even some degree of comfort.

      'Get up, than, Shargar, ye lazy beggar! Or are ye frozen to the door-stane? I s' awa' for a kettle o' bilin' water to lowse ye.'

      'Na, na, Bob. I'm no stucken. I'm only some stiff wi' the cauld; for wow, but I am cauld!' said Shargar, rising with difficulty. 'Gie 's a haud o' yer han', Bob.'

      Robert gave him his hand, and Shargar was straightway upon his feet.

      'Come awa' noo, as fest and as quaiet 's ye can.'

      'What are ye gaein' to du wi' me, Bob?'

      'What's that to you, Shargar?'

      'Naything. Only I wad like to ken.'

      'Hae patience, and ye will ken. Only mind ye do as I tell ye, and dinna speik a word.'

      Shargar followed in silence.

      On the way Robert remembered that Miss Napier had not, after all, given him the receipt for which his grandmother had sent him. So he returned to The Boar's Head, and, while he went in, left Shargar in the archway, to shiver, and try in vain to warm his hands by the alternate plans of slapping them on the opposite arms, and hiding them under them.

      When Robert came out, he saw a man talking to him under the lamp. The moment his eyes fell upon the two, he was struck by a resemblance between them. Shargar was right under the lamp, the man to the side of it, so that Shargar was shadowed by its frame, and the man was in its full light. The latter turned away, and passing Robert, went into the inn.

      'Wha's that?' asked Robert.

      'I dinna ken,' answered Shargar. 'He spak to me or ever I kent he was there, and garred my hert gie sic a loup 'at it maist fell into my breeks.'

      'And what said he to ye?'

      'He said was the deevil at my lug, that I did naething but caw my han's to bits upo' my shoothers.'

      'And what said ye to that?'

      'I said I wissed he was, for he wad aiblins hae some spare heat aboot him, an' I hadna freely (quite) eneuch.'

      'Weel dune, Shargar! What said he to that?'

      'He leuch, and speirt gin I wad list, and gae me a shillin'.'

      'Ye didna tak it, Shargar?' asked Robert in some alarm.

      'Ay did I. Catch me no taking a shillin'!'

      'But they'll haud ye till 't.'

      'Na, na. I'm ower shochlin' (in-kneed) for a sodger. But that man was nae sodger.'

      'And what mair said he?'

      'He speirt what I wad do wi' the shillin'.'

      'And what said ye?'

      'Ow! syne ye cam' oot, and he gaed awa'.'

      'And ye dinna ken wha it was?' repeated Robert.

      'It was some like my brither, Lord Sandy; but I dinna ken,' said Shargar.

      By this time they had arrived at Yule the baker's shop.

      'Bide ye here,' said Robert, who happened to possess a few coppers, 'till I gang into Eel's.'

      Shargar stood again and shivered at the door, till Robert came out with a penny loaf in one hand, and a twopenny loaf in the other.

      'Gie's a bit, Bob,' said Shargar. 'I'm as hungry as I am cauld.'

      'Bide ye still,' returned Robert. 'There's a time for a' thing, and your time 's no come to forgather wi' this loaf yet. Does na it smell fine? It's new frae the bakehoose no ten minutes ago. I ken by the fin' (feel) o' 't.'

      'Lat me fin' 't,' said Shargar, stretching out one hand, and feeling his shilling with the other.

      'Na. Yer han's canna be clean. And fowk suld aye eat clean, whether they gang clean or no.'

      'I'll awa' in an' buy ane oot o' my ain shillin',' said Shargar, in a tone of resolute eagerness.

      'Ye'll do naething o' the kin',' returned Robert, darting his hand at his collar. 'Gie me the shillin'. Ye'll want it a' or lang.'

      Shargar yielded the coin and slunk behind, while Robert again led the way till they came to his grandmother's door.

      'Gang to the ga'le o' the hoose there, Shargar, and jist keek roon' the neuk at me; and gin I whustle upo' ye, come up as quaiet 's ye can. Gin I dinna, bide till I come to ye.'

      Robert opened the door cautiously. It was never locked except at night, or when Betty had gone to the well for water, or to the butcher's or baker's, or the prayer-meeting, upon which occasions she put the key in her pocket, and left her mistress a prisoner. He looked first to the right, along the passage, and saw that his grandmother's door was shut; then across the passage to the left, and saw that the kitchen door was likewise shut, because of the cold, for its normal position was against the wall. Thereupon, closing the door, but keeping the handle in his hand, and the bolt drawn back, he turned to the street and whistled soft and low. Shargar had, in a moment, dragged his heavy feet, ready to part company with their shoes at any instant, to Robert's side. He bent his ear to Robert's whisper.

      'Gang in there, and creep like a moose to the fit o' the stair. I maun close the door ahin' 's,' said he, opening the door as he spoke.

      'I'm fleyt (frightened), Robert.'

      'Dinna be a fule. Grannie winna bite aff yer heid. She had ane till her denner, the day, an' it was ill sung (singed).'

      'What ane o'?'

      'A sheep's heid, ye gowk (fool). Gang in direckly.'

      Shargar persisted no longer, but, taking about four steps a minute, slunk past the kitchen like a thief—not so carefully, however, but that one of his soles yet looser than the other gave one clap upon the flagged passage, when Betty straightway stood in the kitchen door, a fierce picture in a deal frame. By this time Robert had closed the outer door, and was following at Shargar's heels.

      'What's this?' she cried, but not so loud as to reach the ears of Mrs. Falconer; for, with true Scotch foresight, she would not willingly call in another power before the situation clearly demanded it. 'Whaur's