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Penelope's Experiences in Scotland-Part18_Kate Douglas Wiggin(1856-1923)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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younger children, were busily engaged in building a castle. A great



pile of stones had been hauled to the spot, evidently for the

purpose of mending the wall, and these were serving as rich material



for sport. The oldest of the company, a bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked

boy in an Eton jacket and broad white collar, was obviously



commander-in-chief; and the next in size, whom he called Rafe, was a

laddie of eight, in kilts. These two looked as if they might be



scions of the aristocracy, while Dandie and the Wrig were fat little

yokels of another sort. The miniature castle must have been the



work of several mornings, and was worthy of the respectful but

silent admiration with which we gazed upon it; but as the last stone



was placed in the tower, the master builder looked up and spied our

interested eyes peering at him over the wall. We were properly



abashed, and ducked our heads discreetly at once, but were reassured

by hearing him run rapidly towards us, calling, "Stop, if you



please! Have you anything on just now--are you busy?"

We answered that we were quite at leisure.



"Then would you mind coming in to help us play `Sir Patrick Spens'?

There aren't enough of us to do it nicely."



This confidence was touching, and luckily it was not in the least

misplaced. Playing `Sir Patrick Spens' was exactly in our line,



little as he suspected it.

"Come and help?" I said. "Simply delighted! Do come, Fanny dear.



How can we get over the wall?"

"I'll show you the good broken place!" cried Sir Apple-Cheek; and



following his directions we scrambled through, while Rafe took off

his Highland bonnet ceremoniously and handed us down to earth.



"Hurrah! now it will be something like fun! Do you know `Sir

Patrick Spens'?"



"Every word of it. Don't you want us to pass an examination before

you allow us in the game?"



"No," he answered gravely; "it's a great help, of course, to know

it, but it isn't necessary. I keep the words in my pocket to prompt



Dandie, and the Wrig can only say two lines, she's so little."

(Here he produced some tattered leaves torn from a book of ballads.)



"We've done it many a time, but this is a new Dunfermline Castle,

and we are trying the play in a different way. Rafe is the king,



and Dandie is the `eldern knight,'--you remember him?"

"Certainly; he sat at the king's right knee."



"Yes, yes, that's the one! Then Rafe is Sir Patrick part of the

time, and I the other part, because everybody likes to be him; but



there's nobody left for the `lords o' Noroway' or the sailors, and

the Wrig is the only maiden to sit on the shore, and she always



forgets to comb her hair and weep at the right time."

The forgetful and placid Wrig (I afterwards learned that this is a



Scots word for the youngest bird in the nest) was seated on the

grass, with her fat hands full of pink thyme and white wild



woodruff. The sun shone on her curly flaxen head. She wore a dark

blue cotton frock with white dots, and a short-sleeved pinafore; and



though she was utterly useless from a dramatic point of view, she

was the sweetest little Scotch dumpling I ever looked upon. She had



been tried and found wanting in most of the principal parts of the

ballad, but when left out of the performancealtogether she was wont



to scream so lustily that all Crummylowe rushed to her assistance.

"Now let us practise a bit to see if we know what we are going to



do," said Sir Apple-Cheek. "Rafe, you can be Sir Patrick this time.

The reason why we all like to be Sir Patrick," he explained, turning



to me, "is that the lords o' Noroway say to him--

`Ye Scottishmen spend a' our King's gowd,



And a' our Queenis fee';

and then he answers,--



`"Ye lee! ye lee! ye leers loud,

Fu' loudly do ye lee!"'



and a lot of splendid things like that. Well, I'll be the king,"

and accordingly he began:-



`The King sits in Dunfermline tower,

Drinking the bluid-red wine.



"O whaur will I get a skeely skipper

To sail this new ship o' mine?"'



A dead silence ensued, whereupon the king said testily, "Now,

Dandie, you never remember you're the eldern knight; go on!"



Thus reminded, Dandie recited:-




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