Blair came in.
"The girls are just away to the burn to wash the clothes," Aunt Blair said, going a little pink.
"That's good. Very good," said Uncle Blair, not listening.
He sat down heavily at the table.
"What is it, Hugh?" Aunt Blair said, touching his hand.
He glanced up at her, and I was pierced by the sweetness of the look they exchanged. I wasn't used to seeing love. It made me feel oddly happy and lonely at the same time.
"It's that man Irving. He's after me for a fine. A heavy one. He'll ruin me if he can."
"The new minister?"
"Minister?" Anger sparked in my uncle's face. "He's no true minister. An ignorant false prophet, put in our kirk to preach over us and lead us astray in the path of worldliness. He's no man of God. A jumped-up servant of Charles Stuart, who calls himself the king. And if..."
Aunt Blair shook her head at him, as if in warning.
"Oh, aye, girls, off you go," Uncle Blair said.
Grizel had picked up a pile of linen and was making for the door. I bundled together my own dirty clothes and my father's shirt and plaid and followed her outside. She crossed to the other side of the courtyard and dropped her armful of clothes into a tub that was lying inside the storeroom. She picked up one handle and nodded at me, in the curt way that seemed natural to her, to take the other.
"Who's Mr. Irving?" I asked, as we staggered together over the few hundred yards to the little stream that ran past the back of the farm.
She looked sideways at me, and I could tell that she hadn't decided if she liked me or not.
"He's the new minister, put into the kirk in Kilmacolm," she said unwillingly, "after the old one was chased off by the king's men. Turned out of his manse, he was."
"Oh. Is that why my uncle doesn't like Mr. Irving?"
"Yes. Master holds to the Covenant." She saw a question in my face and hurried on. "Mr. Alexander was a good minister, and everyone hereabouts liked him. The people had chosen him themselves. They won't have anything to do with Mr. Irving."
"What happened to Mr. Alexander?"
"I don't know. Look, this is the best place for washing. It's muddy up there."
She does know, but she won't say, I thought. There are secrets here.
I didn't have time to wonder anymore, because Grizel was already working on the clothes, sloshing water from the burn into the tub with the pitcher she had carried in her spare hand. When the clothes were well covered, she knelt by the tub and began to rub at them with the soap.
I watched, fascinated. We'd never had soap at Scalpsie Bay. In fact, we'd never gone in for much washing of linen at all.
I took my place on the other side of the tub, lifted a shift, groped for the soap, and tried to copy her, but the slippery cake dropped out of my hands into the water.
"Watch out," she said, fishing the soap out. "Mistress will scold if much of it's melted off."
I bit my lip. I hadn't known that soap melted in water. She was looking at me curiously.
"You haven't lived on a big farm like this, then? Over there, in Bute, don't they have soap and that?"
"Not that I've seen," I said shortly.
She had stood up and was hitching her skirts high, exposing her pale legs. She tucked the folds of cloth into her girdle, and, to my amazement, she stepped right into the tub and began to trample the washing with her feet, humming as she went. Her little triumph over the soap seemed to have cheered her, and she grinned at me.
"Come on in and give us a hand—or a foot."
I had to smile back.
"I will if you like."
I hoisted up my own skirts and clambered into the tub. The cold water came up over my ankles. There wasn't much room for the two of us, so we had to stand close with our hands on each other's shoulders, making our legs go at the same time. Grizel suddenly threw her head back and began to sing.
"The gypsies came to Lord Cassilisgate..." and before she'd finished the first line, I burst out laughing and joined in:
"And sang in the garden shady,"
Together we chorused:
"They sang so sweet and so complete
That well they pleased the lady."
"How does it go on?" she asked, breaking off. "Do you know any more? All the story of