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Updated: June 28, 2025
"Do you know, we were thinking of that ourselves, Peter?" said Auntie Nan. "A better chance," the Ballawhaine continued, "of the few places open in the island than if he were brought up at the Manx bar only, which would cost me less than half as much." "Oh! but the money will come back to you, both for Ross and Philip," said Auntie Nan. The Ballawhaine coughed impatiently.
Under this there was a little black picture that seemed to Pete to be the likeness of a fancy tombstone. And the print on it, so far as Pete could spell it out, was that of a tombstone too, "In loving memory of Verbena, beloved wife of Peter Chr " The Ballawhaine came crunching the sand on the hall-floor.
With that final outburst she swept down the steps and along the path, leaving Philip three paces behind, and the Ballawhaine with a terrified look under the stuffed cormorant in the fanlight above the open door. The fiery mood lasted her half way home, and then broke down in a torrent of tears. "Oh dear! oh dear!" she cried. "I've been too hasty. After all, he is your only relative.
"Where was Ross?" "Gone, sir, without waiting to see his foolish ould father pushed under the sod. Well, there was not much to wait for neither. The young man has been a besom of fire and burnt up everything. Not so much left as would buy a rope to hang him. And Ballawhaine is mine, sir; mine in a way of spak-ing my son-in-law's, anyway and he has given me the right to have and to hould it.
"These," said the Ballawhaine, "I bring to bear for Ross, that he may distance all competitors. Do you read me now?" "Read you, Peter?" said Auntie Nan. The Ballawhaine fixed his hollow eye upon her, and said, "What do you ask me to do? You come here and ask me to provide, prepare, and equip a rival to my own son." Auntie Nan had grasped his meaning at last.
She had borrowed the sheet in which she appeared in church from Miss Christian of Ballawhaine, and when she took it back, the good soul of the sweet lady thought to improve the occasion. "I was wondering, Bridget," she said gravely, "what you were thinking of when you stood with Bella and Liza before the congregation last Sunday morning" two other Magda-lenes had done penance by Bridget's side.
Auntie Nan fell to talking of the other Peter, uncle Peter Christian of Ballawhaine. This was the day of the big man's humiliation. The son he had doted on was disgraced. She tried, but could not help it; she struggled, but could not resist the impulse in her secret heart the tender little soul rejoiced. "Such a pity," she sighed.
Was I to go round by Ballawhaine for permission to do my duty as a clergyman? 'Duty! cried grandfather. 'When a young man marries, he marries for heaven or for hell. Your duty as a clergyman! he cried, till his voice rang in the roof. 'If a son of yours had his hand at his throat, would you call it my duty as Deemster to hand him a knife. 'Silence, sir, said the vicar.
He looked old, and had now a pent-house of bristly eyebrows of a different colour from his hair. Pete had often seen him on the road riding by. "Well, my lad, what can I do for you?" he said. He spoke in a jerky voice, as if he thought to overawe the boy. Pete fumbled his stocking cap. "Mothers dead," he answered vacantly. The Ballawhaine knew that already.
"I suppose now," he said, with a knowing look, "you think Jack as good as his master?" "No, sir," said his son gravely; "generally much better." Iron Christian altered his will. To his elder son he left only a life-interest in Ballawhaine. "That boy will be doing something," he said, and thus he guarded against consequences.
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