Free A Crimson Dawn by Janet MacLeod Trotter Page A

able to stand on me own feet - not like Louise just waiting to get wed.’
    Sophie looked between them. When Helen did not protest, she said to Emmie, ‘It’s run by a couple called Runcie. They’re Quakers. I just help out now and again - folding leaflets, that sort of thing. I’m not paid. You should call in some time and see.’
    Emmie looked appealingly at Helen. ‘Please can I go?’
    â€˜I could put a word in for you,’ Sophie encouraged. ‘It’s the least I could do after you rescued me.’
    â€˜But it’s such a distance,’ Helen fretted.
    â€˜I’ll go on the bike,’ Emmie enthused.
    Helen sighed. ‘We’ll ask your Uncle Jonas.’
    They were startled by a knock on the back door. Emmie opened it to find Tom standing in the rain. He pulled off his cap.
    â€˜What do you want?’ Emmie said curtly.
    â€˜Came to see if the lass was all right.’
    â€˜Aye, she is.’
    He flushed. ‘I’m sorry, Emmie - the lads got a bit lively.’
    â€˜Fancy tretting defenceless lasses like that,’ she reproved.
    â€˜Aye, but it’s not the way lasses should carry on, is it? Ganin’ around shoutin’ their gobs off like fishwives and telling men what to do.’
    â€˜Well, men could do with listening to lasses a bit more often, in my opinion,’ Emmie sparked back.
    â€˜You don’t agree with them, do you?’ Tom was incredulous.
    â€˜Aye, I do,’ she declared. ‘In fact I’ve made up me mind to join them.’
    He gawped at her.
    â€˜And if you want to make yoursel’ useful, instead of standing there with your mouth open, you can walk the lady safely out the village to find her friends.’ She challenged him with her look.
    Tom’s expression was stubborn.
    Emmie dropped her voice. ‘Unless you want Major Oliphant hearing about what you nearly did to his daughter?’ She saw his eyes widen in disbelief. ‘Aye,’ she hissed, ‘that’s Miss Sophie Oliphant sittin’ in our kitchen!’
    â€˜Never?’ Tom exclaimed.
    Emmie put her finger to his lips. ‘Not a word, Tom Curran. She doesn’t want folk to know. Now will you help me or not?’
    To Emmie’s amazement, Tom nodded without any more protest.
    Tom was left in the scullery while Sophie got dressed again. She tried to press money on them, but Helen refused. Having learned Emmie’s name, though, Sophie promised to mention her to the Runcies. Together, Emmie and Tom walked Sophie down the lane, Tom completely tongue-tied in the presence of the older woman. The rain had driven everyone indoors and the light was fading fast. By the time they found the electioneering cart outside the inn at the Blackton crossroads, all three were soaked through. Sophie thanked them profusely and hurried inside to join the others. Tom and Emmie trudged back up the hill to Crawdene.
    By the time they neared China Street, Tom saw it all as a huge joke.
    â€˜Fancy old man MacRae havin’ the boss’s daughter to tea,’ he laughed. ‘Mixing with the aristocracy, eh?’
    â€˜Tom, you’re not to say a word,’ Emmie warned. But the more she protested, the more he teased her about it.
    â€˜The socialists defending the bosses,’ he crowed. ‘Wish Rab MacRae was here to see it.’
    Emmie gave him a shove. ‘Wait till your da hears you’ve been attacking Oliphant’s daughter.’
    Tom swung an arm about her. ‘I won’t tell if you won’t tell.’
    She wriggled out of his hold. But he followed her along China Street.
    â€˜I must see the lady safely home,’ he mocked.
    â€˜Don’t bother,’ she said, hurrying ahead.
    â€˜I want to.’ Tom kept pace. At her back door, he caught her hand. ‘You’re not like them lasses, Emmie. You’re one of us. One day you’ll make a canny pitman’s wife.’
    She looked