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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3f1be37 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #63806 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63806) diff --git a/old/63806-0.txt b/old/63806-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 4727cc8..0000000 --- a/old/63806-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4983 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Courtin' Christina, by J. J. Bell - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Courtin' Christina - -Author: J. J. Bell - -Release Date: November 18, 2020 [EBook #63806] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COURTIN' CHRISTINA *** - - - - -Produced by Carol Brown, David Garcia, Larry B. Harrison -and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -https://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - -COURTIN’ - -CHRISTINA - -J. J. BELL - - - - -COURTIN’ CHRISTINA - - - - -BY - -J. J. BELL - -AUTHOR OF - -“WEE MACGREGOR,” “JIM,” - -“OH! CHRISTINA,” ETC. - - -[Illustration: Printer’s Logo] - - -HODDER & STOUGHTON - -NEW YORK - -GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY - - - - -Copyright, 1913 - -BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY - - - - -TO - -J. E. HODDER WILLIAMS - -WHO SUGGESTED IT - - - - -COURTIN’ CHRISTINA - - - - -CHAPTER ONE - - -Mrs. Robinson conveyed sundry dishes from the oven, also the teapot -from the hob, to the table. - -“Come awa’,” she said briskly, seating herself. “We’ll no’ wait for -Macgreegor.” - -“Gi’e him five minutes, Lizzie,” said Mr. Robinson. - -“I’m in nae hurry,” remarked Gran’paw Purdie, who had come up from the -coast that afternoon. - -“I’m awfu’ hungry, Maw,” piped a young voice. - -“Whisht, Jimsie,” whispered daughter Jeannie. - -Said Mrs. Robinson, a little impatiently: “Come awa’, come awa’, afore -everything gets spiled. Macgreegor has nae business to be that late.” -She glanced at the clock. “He’s been the same a’ week. Haste ye, -John.” - -John opened his mouth, but catching his wife’s eye, closed it again -without speech. - -Excepting Jimsie, they came to the table rather reluctantly. - -“Ask a blessin’, fayther,” murmured Lizzie. - -“Shut yer eyes,” muttered Jeannie to her little brother, while she -restrained his eager paw from reaching a cookie. - -Mr. Purdie’s white head shook slightly as he said grace; he had passed -his five and seventieth birthday, albeit his spirit was cheerful as of -yore; in his case old age seemed to content itself with an occasional -mild reminder. - -John distributed portions of stewed finnan haddie, Lizzie poured out -the tea, while Jeannie methodically prepared a small feast for the -impatient Jimsie. Gran’paw Purdie beamed on the four, but referred -surreptitiously at brief intervals to his fat silver watch. - - * * * * * - -It is eight years since last we saw the Robinson family. Naturally we -find the greatest changes in the younger members. Jimsie from an -infant has become a schoolboy; he is taller, more scholarly, less -disposed to mischief, more subdued of nature than was Macgregor at the -same age; yet he is the frank, animated young query that his brother -was, though, to be sure, he has a sister as well as parents to puzzle -with his questions. At thirteen Jeannie is a comely, fair-haired -little maid, serious for her years, devoted to Jimsie, very proud of -Macgregor, and a blessing to her parents who, strangely enough, rarely -praise her; her chief end seems to be to serve those she loves without -making any fuss about it. - -As for John, he has grown stouter, and to his wife’s dismay a bald -spot has appeared on his crown; his laughter comes as readily as ever, -and he is just as prone to spoil his children. But by this time Lizzie -has become assured that her man’s light-hearted, careless ways do not -extend to his work, that his employers have confidence in their -foreman, and that while he is not likely to rise higher in his trade, -he is still less likely to slip back. She is proud of the three-roomed -modern flat in which she and hers dwell, and her sense for orderliness -and cleanliness has not lost its keenness. In person she is but little -altered: perhaps her features have grown a shade softer. - - * * * * * - -“Ye see, Maister Purdie,” John was explaining, “Macgreegor’s busy the -noo at a job in the west-end, an’ that’s the reason he’s late for his -tea.” - -“’Deed, ay. It’s a lang road for him to come hame,” said the old man. -“An’ is he still likin’ the pentin’ trade?” - -“Ay, ay. An’ he’s gettin’ on splendid――jist splendid!” - -“It’s time enough to be sayin’ that,” Lizzie interposed. “He’s no’ ony -furder on nor a lad o’ his age ought to be. I’m no’ sayin’ he’s daein’ -badly, fayther; but there’s nae sense in boastin’ aboot what’s jist -or’nar’?――Na, Jimsie! it’s no’ time for jeelly yet. Tak’ what Jeannie -gi’es ye, laddie.――Ay, the least said――――” - -“But his employer’s pleased wi’ him; he tell’t me as much, wife,” said -John. “An’ if ye compare Macgreegor wi’ that young scamp, Wullie -Thomson――――” - -“Oh, if ye compare a man wi’ a monkey, I daresay it’s no’ sae bad for -the man. But, really, John――――” - -“Maw, where was the man wi’ the monkey?” enquired Jimsie through bread -and butter. - -“I’ll tell ye after,” whispered Jeannie, and forthwith set her mind to -improvise a story involving a human being and his ancestor. - -“It’s easy seen,” said Gran’paw, once more consulting his watch, “that -Macgreegor’s workin’ for his wages. Surely he’ll be gettin’ overtime -the nicht. I hope his employer’s a kind man.” - -“I’ve nae doot aboot that,” Lizzie returned. “He gi’es Macgreegor -money for the car when he’s workin’ in the west-end.” - -“That’s a proper maister!” cried Mr. Purdie, while John smiled as much -as to say, “Ay! he kens Macgreegor’s value!” - -“An’ I’m thinkin’,” Lizzie continued, “that Macgreegor walks hame an’ -keeps the pennies to buy ceegarettes.” - -“What?” exclaimed the old man; “has the laddie commenced the smokin’ -a’ready?” - -“Oh, naething to speak aboot,” said John, a trifle apologetically. -“They commence earlier than they did in your day, I suppose, Maister -Purdie. No’ that I wud smoke a ceegarette if I was paid for ’t.” - -“He’s far ower young for the smokin’,” observed Lizzie. - -“_I_ can smoke,” declared Jimsie indiscreetly. Jeannie pressed his -arm. - -John guffawed, Gran’paw looked amused until Lizzie demanded: “What’s -that ye’re sayin’, Jimsie?” - -“But I’m no’ a reg’lar smoker,” mumbled Jimsie, crestfallen. - -“Ay,” said John, with a jocular wink at his father-in-law, “ye’re -feart ye singe yer whiskers, ma mannie.” - -“John,” said Lizzie, “it’s naething to joke aboot.... Jimsie, if ever -I catch ye at the smokin’, I’ll stop yer Seturday penny, an’ gi’e ye -castor ile instead. D’ye hear?” - -“Hoots!” cried Gran’paw, “that’s a terrible severe-like punishment, -Lizzie!” - -“I wud rayther tak’ ile twicet an’ get ma penny,” quoth Jimsie. - -“Hear, hear!” from John. - -Lizzie was about to speak when the bell rang. - -Jeannie slipped from her chair. “I’ll gang, Maw,” she said, and went -out. - -“It’s Macgreegor,” remarked John. “Ha’e ye kep’ his haddie hot for -him, Lizzie?” - -“What for wud I dae that?” retorted Mrs. Robinson in a tone of irony, -going over to the oven and extracting a covered dish. - -“Haw!” laughed John. “I kent ye had something there!” - -“What for did ye ask then?” - -She came back to the table as her son entered, a very perceptible -odour of his trade about him――an odour which she still secretly -disliked though nearly three years had gone since her first whiff of -it. “What kep’ ye?” she enquired, pleasantly enough. - -It is possible that Macgregor’s dutiful greeting to his grandfather -prevented his answering the question. He appeared honestly glad to see -the old man; yet compared with his own the latter’s greeting was -boisterous. He returned his father’s smile, glanced at his mother who -was engaged in filling his cup, winked at his young brother, and took -his place at the table, between the two men. - -“Ye’ll be wearied,” remarked John. - -“No’ extra,” he replied, stretching his tired legs under cover of the -table. - -“Did ye walk?” his mother asked, passing him his tea. - -“Ay.” - -“It’ll be three mile,” said John. - -Jeannie came from the fire and put a fresh slice of toast on his -plate. He nodded his thanks, and she went to her place satisfied and -assisted Jimsie who had got into difficulties with a jam sandwich that -oozed all round. - -“What way did ye no’ tak’ the car, laddie?” enquired Lizzie. - -“I’d as sune walk,” he replied, shortly. - -“It’s fine to save the siller――eh, Macgreegor?” said Mr. Purdie. - -Macgregor reddened. - -“It’s something new for Macgreegor to dae that,” Lizzie quietly -observed. - -“Tits, wumman!” muttered John. - -“Wi’ their cheap cars,” put in Mr. Purdie, “Glesga folk are like to -loss the use o’ their legs. It’s terrible to see the number o’ young -folk that winna walk if they’ve a bawbee in their pooch. I’m gled to -see Macgreegor’s no’ yin o’ them.” He patted Macgregor’s shoulder as -he might have done ten years ago, and the youth moved impatiently. - -“I’m no’ complainin’ o’ Macgreegor walkin’ when he micht tak’ the -car,” said Lizzie, “but I wud like to see him puttin’ his savin’s to -some guid purpose.” - -At these words Macgregor went a dull red, and set down his cup with a -clatter. - -“Ha’e ye burnt yer mooth?” asked John, with quick sympathy. - -“Naw,” was the ungracious reply. “It’s naebody’s business whether I -tak’ the car or tramp it. See’s the butter, Jeannie.” - -There was a short silence. An outbreak of temper on Macgregor’s part -was not of frequent occurrence. Then John turned the conversation to a -big fire that had taken place in Glasgow the previous night, and the -son finished his meal in silence. - -At the earliest possible moment Macgregor left the kitchen. For some -reason or other the desire to get away from his elders was paramount. -A few minutes later he was in the little room which belonged to him -and Jimsie. On the inside of the door was a bolt, screwed there by -himself some months ago. He shot it now. With a towel that hung on the -door he rubbed his wet face savagely. He had washed his hands in -turpentine ere leaving the scene of his work. - -He donned a clean collar. As he was fixing his Sunday tie a summons -came to the door. He went and opened it, looking cross. - -“Weel, what are ye wantin’, Jimsie?” - -“Did ye bring ma putty, Macgreegor?” - -“Och, I clean forgot.” - -Jimsie’s face fell. “Ye promised,” he complained. - -Macgregor patted the youngster’s head. “I’ll bring it the morn’s -nicht, as sure as death,” he said. “I’m sorry, Jimsie,” he added -apologetically. - -“See an’ no’ forget again,” said Jimsie, and retired. - -Macgregor closed the door and attended to his tie. Then he looked -closely at his face in the mirror hanging near the window. He was not -a particularly good-looking lad, yet his countenance suggested nothing -coarse or mean. His features as features, however, did not concern him -now. From his vest pocket he brought a knife, with a blade thinned by -stone and polished by leather. He tried its keen edge on his thumb, -shook his head, and applied the steel to his boot. Presently he began -to scrape his upper lip. It pained him, and he desisted. Not for the -first time he wished he had a real razor. - -Having put the knife away, he looked at his watch――his grandfather’s -prize for “good conduct” of eight years ago――and proceeded hastily to -brush his hair. His hair, as his mother had often remarked during his -childhood, was “awfu’ ill to lie.” For a moment or two he regarded his -garments. He would have changed them had he had time――or was it -courage? - -Finally he took from his pockets a key and two pennies. He opened a -drawer in the old chest, and placed the pennies in a disused tobacco -tin, which already contained a few coins. He knew very well the total -sum therein, but he reckoned it up once more. One shilling and -sevenpence. - -Every Saturday he handed his wages to his mother, who returned him -sixpence. His present hoard was the result of two weeks’ abstinence -from cigarettes and walking instead of taking the car. He knew the job -in the west-end would take at least another week, which meant another -sixpence, and the coming Saturday would bring a second sixpence. Total -in the near future:――two shillings and sevenpence. He smiled -uncertainly, and locked up the treasure. - -A minute later he slipped quietly into the passage and took his cap -from its peg. - -The kitchen door opened. “Whaur are ye gaun, Macgreegor?” his mother -asked. - -“Oot,” he replied briefly, and went. Going down the stairs he felt -sorry somehow. Sons often feel sorry somehow, but mothers may never -know it. - -When Lizzie, hiding her hurt, had shut the kitchen door, Mr. Purdie -said softly: “That question an’ that answer, ma dear, are as auld as -human natur’.” - - * * * * * - -As Macgregor turned out of the tenement close he encountered his -one-time chum, Willie Thomson. Macgregor might not have admitted it to -his parents, but during the last few weeks he had been finding -Willie’s company less and less desirable. - -Willie now put precisely the same question that Mrs. Robinson had put -a minute earlier. - -“I’ll maybe see ye later,” was Macgregor’s evasive response, delivered -awkwardly. He passed on. - -“Ha’e ye a ceegarette on ye?” cried Willie, taking a step after him. - -“Na.” - -“Ye’re in a queer hurry.” - -“I’ll maybe see ye later,” said Macgregor again, increasing his speed -in a curious guilty fashion. - -Willie made no attempt to overtake him. He, too, had been finding a -certain staleness in the old friendship――especially since Macgregor -had stopped his purchases of cigarettes. Willie was as often out of -employment as in it, but he did not realise that he was in danger of -becoming a mere loafer and sponge. Yet he was fond of Macgregor. - -Macgregor passed from the quiet street wherein he lived into one of -Glasgow’s highways, aglow with electric light, alive with noise out of -all proportion to its traffic. He continued to walk swiftly, his alert -eyes betraying his eagerness, for the distance of a couple of blocks. -Then into another quiet street he turned, and therein his pace became -slower and slower, until it failed altogether. Beneath a gas lamp he -questioned his watch, his expression betokening considerable anxiety. - -It was a fine October night, but chilly――not that he gave any sign of -feeling cold. For a space he remained motionless, gazing up the -street. Possibly he would have liked a cigarette just then. - -As though rousing himself, he moved abruptly and proceeded slowly to -the next lamp post, turned about and came back to his first -halting-place, where he turned about again. For a long half-hour he -continued to stroll between the two posts. Few persons passed him, and -he did not appear to notice them. Indeed, it may as well be frankly -admitted that he shamefully avoided their glances. When at last he did -stop, it was with a sort of jerk. - -From one of the closes a girl emerged and came towards him. - - - - -CHAPTER TWO - - -Macgregor’s acquaintance with Jessie Mary was almost as old as -himself; yet only within the last three months had he recognised her -existence as having aught of importance to do with his own. This -recognition had followed swift on the somewhat sudden discovery that -Jessie Mary was pretty. - -The discovery was made at a picnic, organised by a section of the -great drapery store wherein Jessie Mary found employment, Macgregor’s -presence at the outing being accounted for by the fact that in a weak -moment he had squandered a money gift from his grandparents on the -purchase of two tickets for Katie, his first love (so far as we know), -and himself. The picnic was a thorough success, but neither Macgregor -nor Katie enjoyed it. It was not so much that anything came between -them, as that something that had been between them departed――evaporated. -There was no quarrel; merely a dulness, a tendency to silence, -increasing in dreariness as the bright day wore on. And, at last, in -the railway compartment, on the way home, they sat, crushed together -by the crowd, Katie dumb with dismay, Macgregor steeped in gloom. - -Opposite them sat Jessie Mary and her escort, a young man with sleek -hair, a pointed nose, several good teeth, and a small but exquisite -black moustache. These two were gay along with the majority of the -occupants of the carriage. Perhaps in her simple sixteen-year-old -heart Katie began to realise that she was deserted indeed; perhaps -Macgregor experienced prickings of shame, not that he had ever given -or asked promises. Still, it is to be hoped that he did not remember -then any of Katie’s innocent little advances of the past. - -Affection ’twixt youth and youth is such a delicate, sensitive thing, -full of promise as the pretty egg of a bonny bird, and as easily -broken. - -Macgregor was caught by the vivacious dark eyes of Jessie Mary, snared -by her impudent red mouth, held by the charm of her face, which the -country sun had tinted with an unwonted bloom. Alas for the little -brown mouse at his side! At briefer and briefer intervals he allowed -his gloomy glance to rest on the girl opposite, while he became more -and more convinced that the young man with the exquisite moustache was -a “bletherin’ idiot.” Gradually he shifted his position to the very -edge of the seat, so as to lessen his contact with Katie. And when -Jessie Mary, without warning, presented to his attention her foot in -its cheap, stylish shoe, saying: “I wish ye wud tie ma lace, -Macgreegor,” a strange wild thrill of pride ran through his being, -though, to be sure, he went scarlet to the ears and his fingers could -scarce perform their office. There were friends of Jessie Mary who -declared that Macgregor never would have noticed her at all that day -had she not been wearing a white frock with a scarlet belt; but that -was grossly unfair to Jessie Mary. The animation and fresh coquetry of -eighteen were also hers. - -Nigh three months had gone, autumn had come, and here in a dingy -side-street the captivated youth had lingered on the bare chance of a -glimpse of the same maiden in her every-day attire, his mind tormented -by his doubts as to his reception, should she happen to appear. - - * * * * * - -And now she was approaching him. For the life of him he could neither -advance nor retire. Still, such of his wits as had remained faithful -informed him that it was “stupid-like” to do nothing at all. Whereupon -he drew out his watch and appeared to be profoundly interested in the -time. At the supreme moment of encounter his surprise was, it must be -confessed, extremely badly managed, and he touched his cap with the -utmost diffidence and without a word. - -“Hullo!” Jessie Mary remarked carelessly. “Fancy meetin’ you, as the -man said to the sassige roll!” - -It had been a mutton-pie at their last meeting, Macgregor remembered, -trying to laugh. Some comfort might have been his had he known that -this flippancy, or its variant, was her form of greeting to all the -young men then enjoying her acquaintance. Jessie Mary usually kept a -joke going for about three months, and quite successfully, too. - -“Did ye no’ expec’ to meet me?” He stumbled over the words. - -Jessie Mary laughed lightly, mockingly. “I wasna aware yer best girl -lived in this street.” - -“It――it’s no’ the first time ye’ve seen me here,” he managed to say. - -She laughed again. “Weel, that’s true. I wonder wha the girl is.” He -would have told her if he could, poor boy. “But I must hurry,” she -went on, “or the shops’ll be shut.” - -“Can I no’ gang wi’ ye?” he asked, with a great effort. - -“Oh, ye can come as far as Macrorie’s,” she answered graciously, -mentioning a provision shop. - -Young love is ever grateful for microscopic mercies, and Macgregor’s -spirit took courage as he fell into step with her. Jessie Mary was a -handsomely built young woman; her shoulder was quite on a level with -his. There were times when he would fain have been taller; times, -also, when he would fain have been older, for Jessie Mary’s years -exceeded his own by two. Nevertheless, he was now thinking of her age -without reference to his own. He was, in fact, about to speak of it, -when Jessie Mary said: - -“I’m to get to the United Ironmongers’ dance on Friday week, after a’. -When fayther was at his tea the nicht, he said I could gang.” - -She might as well have poured a jug of ice water over him. “Aw, did -he?” he murmured feebly. - -“Ye should come, Macgreegor,” she continued. “Only three-an’-six for a -ticket admittin’ lady an’ gent.” - -“Och, I’m no’ heedin’ aboot dancin’,” said Macgregor, knowing full -well that his going was out of the question. - -“It’ll be a splendid dance. They’ll keep it up till three,” she -informed him. - -With his heart in his mouth he enquired who was taking her to the -dance. - -“Oh, I ha’ena decided yet.” She gave her head a becoming little toss. -“I’ve several offers. I’ll let them quarrel in the meantime.” - -Perhaps it was some consolation to know that she had not decided on -any particular escort, and that the rivals were at war with one -another. While there is strife there is hope. - -“Ay; ye’ll ha’e plenty offers,” he managed to say steadily, and felt -rather pleased with himself. - -“I’m seriously thinking o’ wearin’ pink,” she told him as they turned -into the main street. “It’s maybe a wee thing common, but I’ve been -told it suits me.” - -Macgregor wondered who had told her, and stifling his jealousy, -observed that pink was a bonny colour.... “But――but ye wud look fine -in ony auld thing.” Truly he was beginning to get on. - -So, at least, Jessie Mary seemed to think. “Nane o’ yer flattery!” she -said with a coquettish laugh. - -“I wud like fine to see ye at the dance,” he said with a sigh. - -“Come――an’ I’ll gi’e ye a couple o’ dances――three, if I can spare -them.” Hitherto Jessie Mary had regarded Macgregor as a mere boy, and -sometimes as a bit of a nuisance, but she was the sort of young woman -who cannot have too many strings to her bow. “I can get ye a ticket,” -she added encouragingly. - -For an instant it occurred to Macgregor to ask her to let him take her -to the dance――he would find the money somehow――but the idea died in -its birth. He could not both go to the dance and do that which he had -already promised himself to do. Besides, she might laugh at him and -refuse. - -“It’s nae use speakin’ aboot the dance,” he said regretfully. Then -abruptly: “Yer birthday’s on Tuesday week, is’t no’?” - -Jessie Mary looked at him. His eyes were on the pavement. “Wha tell’t -ye that?” - -“I heard ye speakin’ aboot yer birthday to somebody at the picnic.” - -“My! ye’ve a memory!” - -“But it’s on Tuesday week――the twinty-third? I was wantin’ to be -sure.” - -“Weel, it’s the twinty-third, sure enough.” She heaved an affected -sigh. “Nineteen! I’m gettin’ auld, Macgreegor. Time I was gettin’ a -lad! Eh?” She laughed at his confusion of face. “But what for d’ye -want to ken aboot ma birthday?” she innocently enquired, becoming -graver. - -The ingenuousness of the question helped him. - -“Aw, I jist wanted to ken, Jessie Mary. Never heed aboot it. I hope -ye’ll enjoy the dance――when it comes.” This was quite a long speech -for Macgregor to make, but it might have been even longer had they not -just then arrived at the provision shop. - -“Here we are,” said she cheerfully. She had the decency to ignore the -smile of the young man behind the counter――the young man with the -sharp nose and exquisite black moustache; nor did she appear to notice -another young man on the opposite pavement who was also gazing quite -openly at her. “Here we are, an’ here we part――to meet again, I hope,” -she added, with a softer glance. - -“I’ll wait till ye’ve got yer messages,” said Macgregor, holding his -ground. - -She gave him her sweetest smile but one. “Na, Macgreegor; it’ll tak’ -me a while to get the messages, an’ I’ve ither places to gang -afterwards. Maybe I’ll see ye floatin’ aroun’ anither nicht.” - -“But I’m no’ in a hurry. I――I wish ye wud let me wait.” - -Her very sweetest smile was reserved for the most stubborn cases, and -she gave it him now. But her voice though gentle was quite firm. “If -ye want to please me, Macgreegor, ye’ll no’ wait the nicht.” - -He was conquered. She nodded kindly and entered the doorway. - -“Guidbye, Jessie Mary,” he murmured, and turned away. - -There were no other customers in the shop. Jessie Mary took a seat at -the counter. The young man, stroking his moustache, gave her a -good-evening tenderly. - -“I’m to get to the dance,” she said, solemnly. - -The young man’s hand fell to his side. “Wi’ me?” he cried, very -eagerly. - -“I ha’ena made up ma mind yet, Peter. I want a pair o’ kippers――the -biggest ye’ve got.” - - - - -CHAPTER THREE - - -The outside of the shop had been painted but recently. Above door and -window were blazoned in large gilt letters the words: - -STATIONERY AND FANCY GOODS. - -Just over the doorway was very modestly printed in white the name of -the proprietor: - -M. TOD. - -What the _M_ stood for nobody knew (or cared) unless, perhaps, the -person so designated; and it is almost conceivable that she had -forgotten, considering that for five and thirty years she had never -heard herself addressed save as Miss Tod. - -For five and thirty years M. Tod had kept her shop without assistance. -For five and thirty years she had lived in the shop and its back room, -rarely going out of doors except to church on Sunday mornings. The -grocer along the way had a standing order: practically all the -necessaries of life, as M. Tod understood them, could be supplied from -a grocer’s shop. A time had been when M. Tod saved money; but the last -ten years had witnessed a steady shrinking of custom, a dwindling in -hopes for a peaceful, comfortable old age, a shrinking and dwindling -in M. Tod herself. A day came when a friendly customer and gossip was -startled to behold M. Tod suddenly flop to the floor behind the -counter. - -A doctor, hastily summoned, brought her back to a consciousness of her -drab existence and dingy shop. She was soon ready to go on with both -as though nothing had happened. The doctor, however, warned her quite -frankly that if she did not take proper nourishment, moderate exercise -and abundance of fresh air, she would speedily find herself beyond -need of these things. - -M. Tod did not want to die, and since she never laughed at anything -she could not laugh at the doctor. To some of us life is like a cup of -bitter physic with a lump of sugar at the bottom, but no spoon to stir -it up with; life, therefore, must be sweet――sooner or later. - -On the other hand, obedience to the doctor would involve considerable -personal expenditure, not to mention the engaging of an assistant. -When M. Tod had reckoned up the remnants of her savings and estimated -her financial position generally, she incontinently groaned. -Nevertheless, she presently proceeded to prepare a two-line -advertisement for the _Evening Express_. She was still in the throes -of composition――endeavouring to say in twenty words what she thought -in two hundred――when Mr. Baldwin, traveller for a firm of fancy-goods -merchants, entered the shop. Acquainted with his kindly manner in the -past, she ventured to confide to him her present difficulties. - -Mr. Baldwin was not only sympathetic but helpful. - -“Why,” said he, “my niece Christina might suit you――in fact, I’m sure -she would. She is nearly sixteen, and only yesterday finished a full -course of book-keeping. More than that, Miss Tod, she has had experience -in the trade. Her aunt before her marriage to――er――myself――had a -little business like your own, at the coast. I had thought of getting -Christina a situation in the wholesale, but I believe it would be -better for her to be here, for a time at least. I know she is keen on -a place where she can have her own way――I mean to say, have room to -carry out her own ideas.” Mr. Baldwin halted in some confusion, but -speedily recovered. “Anyway,” he went on, “give her a trial. Let me -send her along to see you this evening.” - -M. Tod assented, possibly because she feared to hurt the traveller’s -feelings. “Nearly sixteen” and “keen on a place where she can have her -own way” did not sound precisely reassuring to the old woman who had -no experience of young folk, and who had been her own mistress for so -long. - -That evening Christina came, saw and, after a little hesitation, -conquered her doubts as to the suitability of the situation. “I’ll -manage her easy,” she said to herself while attending with the utmost -demureness to M. Tod’s recital of the duties required of her -assistant――“I’ll manage her easy.” - -Within six months she had made good her unuttered words. - - * * * * * - -It was Saturday afternoon. M. Tod was about to leave the shop for an -airing. Time takes back no wrinkles, yet M. Tod seemed younger than a -year ago. She had lost the withered, yellowed complexion of those who -worship continually in the Temple of Tannin; her movements were freer; -her voice no longer fell at the end of every sentence on a note of -hopelessness. Though she had grown some months older, she had become -years less aged. She glanced round her shop with an air of pride. - -From behind the counter Christina, with a kindly, faintly amused -smile, watched her. - -“Ay,” remarked M. Tod, “everything looks vera nice――vera nice, indeed, -dearie. I can see ye’ve done yer best to follow ma instructions.” - -It had become a habit with M. Tod to express observations of this sort -prior to going out, a habit, also, to accept all Christina’s -innovations and improvements as originally inspired by herself. Even -the painting of the shop, which, when first mooted by the girl, had -seemed about as desirable as an earthquake, had gradually become her -very own bright idea. Happily Christina had no difficulty in -tolerating such gentle injustices; as a matter of fact, she preferred -that her mistress should be managed unawares. - -“Tak’ a squint at the window when ye gang oot,” she said, pleasantly. -“Ye ha’ena seen it since it was dressed. There’s a heap o’ cheap trash -in it, but it’s trash that draws the public noo-a-days.” - -“Oh, I wudna say that, dearie,” said the old woman. “I’ve aye tried to -gi’e folk guid value.” - -“Ay! Ma aunt was like that――near ruined hersel’ tryin’ to gi’e the -public what it didna want. What the public wants is gorgeousness――an’ -it wants it cheap. Abyssinian Gold an’ papermashy leather an’ so on. -See thon photo-frames!”――Christina pointed――“the best sellin’ -photo-frames ever we had! In a week or so, they get wearit sittin’ on -the mantel-piece, an’ doon they fa’ wi’ a broken leg; in a fortnight -they look as if they had been made in the year ten B.C.! Behold thon -purses! Safer to carry yer cash in a paper poke, but the public canna -resist the real, _genuine_ silver mounts. Observe thon――――” - -“Weel, weel,” Miss Tod mildly interrupted, “it’s maybe as ye say, an’ -I canna deny that custom’s improvin’. But it’s a sad pity that folk -winna buy the best――――” - -“Oh, let the folk pity theirsel’s――when they get sense――an’ that’ll -no’ be this year. Gi’e them what they want, an’ never heed what they -need. That’s the motto for a shop-keeper. Come ower here for a minute -till I sort yer bonnet, or ye’ll be lossin’ twa o’ yer grapes. I hear -figs an’ onions is to be the favourite trimmin’ next Spring. Ye could -dae wi’ a new bonnet, Miss Tod.” - -“So I could,” the old woman wistfully admitted as she submitted her -headgear to her assistant’s deft fingers. “I couldna say when I got -this yin.” - -“Oh, I’m no’ keen on dates. But”――encouragingly――“we’ll tak’ stock -next week, an’ when we’ve struck the half-year’s balance I’ll no’ be -surprised if ye tak’ the plunge an’ burst a pound-note at the -milliner’s.” Christina administered a final pat to the ancient bonnet. -“Noo ye’re ready for the road. See an’ no’ catch cold. I’ll ha’e the -kettle at the bile against yer return at five.” - -“I’ll no’ be late,” replied M. Tod who, to tell the truth, was already -wishing it were tea-time, and moved to the door. - -“I suppose,” said Christina, “ye wudna care to call at the Reverend -Mr. McTavish’s an’ politely ask for payment o’ his account――consistin’ -chiefly o’ sermon-paper. He’s a whale for sermon-paper!” - -“Oh, dearie, dearie, I couldna dae that,” faltered M. Tod, and made -her escape. - -“If that account isna paid sune,” Christina murmured, “I’ll ha’e to -gang masel’ an’ put the fear o’ death into the man. Business is -business――even when it’s releegious.” - -She looked round the shop to discover if aught required her attention; -then being satisfied that nought could be improved, she seated herself -on the stool and prepared to do a little book-keeping. - -As she dipped her pen, however, the door of the shop was slowly -opened, the bell above it banged, and a young man――so she reckoned -him――came in. In her quick way, though she had never seen him before, -she put him down in her mind as a purchaser of a half-penny football -paper. But having recovered from the alarm of the bell and carefully -shut the door, he hesitated, surveying his surroundings. - -Christina flung back her thick plait of fair hair, slipped from the -stool, and came to attention. - -“Nice day,” she remarked in her best manner. She contrived to get away -from the vernacular in her business dealings. - -“Ay,” The young man smiled absently. - -“Nice teeth,” thought Christina. (That Macgregor’s teeth were good was -entirely due to his mother’s firmness in the matter of brushing them -during his younger days. He was inclined to be proud of them now.) - -“Just take a look round,” she said aloud. - -Macgregor acknowledged the invitation with a nod. - -“Was it anything special you wanted to see?” she enquired. - -Macgregor regarded her for a moment. “I had a look at yer window,” he -said, his eyes wandering once more, “but I seen naething dearer nor a -shillin’.” - -“Oh!” exclaimed Christina. Then recovering her dignity――“The window is -merely a popular display. We have plenty of more expensive goods -within.” She felt pleased at having said “within” instead of “inside.” - -At the word “expensive” Macgregor shrank. “Aboot half-a-croon?” he -said diffidently, taking a step towards the door. - -“Half-a-croon _and_ upwards,” said Christina very distinctly. As a -matter of fact, the shop contained few articles priced as high as two -shillings, the neighbourhood not being noted for its affluence; but -one of Christina’s mottoes was “First catch your customer and then -rook him.” “Oh, yes,” she added pleasantly, “our goods at half-a-crown -are abundant.” - -For a moment Macgregor doubted she was laughing at him, but a veiled -glance at her earnest face reassured him――nay, encouraged him. He had -never bought a present for a lady before, and felt his position -keenly. Indeed, he had left his home district to make the purchase in -order that he might do so unrecognised. - -So with a shy, appealing smile he said: - -“It’s for a present.” - -“A present. Certainly!” she replied, lapsing a trifle in the -excitement of the moment. “Male or female?” - -Macgregor gave her an honest stare. - -“Is it for a lady or gent?” she enquired, less abashed by the stare -than annoyed with herself for having used the wrong phrase. - -“Lady,” said Macgregor, with an attempt at boldness, and felt himself -getting hot. - -“Will you kindly step this way?” came the polite invitation. - -Macgregor proceeded to the counter and bumped his knee against the -chair that stood there. - -“Useful or ornamental?” - -“I――I dinna ken,” he answered between his teeth. - -“I’ll break that chair’s neck for it some day!” cried Christina, her -natural sympathy for suffering getting the better of her commercial -instincts. Then she coughed in her best style. “Do you think the young -lady would like something to wear?” - -“I dinna ken, I’m sure.” Macgregor pushed back his cap and scratched -his head. “Let’s see what ye’ve got for wearin’ an’――an’ no’ for -wearin’.” - -Christina, too, nearly scratched her head. She was striving to think -where she could lay hands on articles for which she could reasonably -charge half-a-crown. - -Without very noticeable delay she turned to a drawer, and presently -displayed a small green oblong box. She opened it. - -“This is a nice fountain-pen,” she explained. “Its price has been -reduced――――” - -“Aw, I’m no’ heedin’ aboot reduced things, thank ye a’ the same.” - -“I’ll make it two shillings to you,” Christina said persuasively. -“That’s a very drastic reduction.” Which was perfectly true. On the -other hand, the pen was an old model which she had long despaired of -selling. “Nothing could be more suitable for a young lady,” she added, -exhibiting the nib. “Real gold.” - -But Macgregor shook his head. - -With apparent cheerfulness she laid the pen aside. “It’s for a _young_ -lady, I think you said?” - -“Ay, it’s for a young lady, but she’s no’ that young either. Aboot ma -ain age, maybe.” - -Christina nearly said “about twelve, I suppose,” but refrained. She -was learning to subdue her tendency to chaff. “I perceive,” she said -gravely. “Is she fond of needlework?” - -“I couldna say. She’s gettin’ a pink dress, but I think her mither’s -sewin’ it for her.” - -“A pink dress!” muttered Christina, forgetting herself. “Oh, -Christopher Columbus!” She turned away sharply. - -“Eh?” - -“She’ll be a brunette?” said Christina calmly, though her cheeks were -flushed. - -“I couldna say,” said Macgregor again. - -Christina brought forward a tray of glittering things. “These combs -are much worn at present,” she informed him. “Observe the jewels.” - -“They’ll no’ be real,” said Macgregor doubtfully. - -“Well――a――no. Not exactly _real_. But everybody weers――wears imitation -jewellery nowadays. The west-end’s full of it――chock-a-block, in -fact.” She held up a pair of combs of almost blinding beauty. -“Chaste――ninepence each.” - -“Ay,” sighed Macgregor, “but I’m no’ sure――――” - -“Silver belt――quite the rage――one shilling.” - -Macgregor remembered the scarlet belt at the picnic. He had a vague -vision of a gift of his in its place. He held out his hand for the -glittering object. - -“You don’t happen to know the size of the lady’s waist?” said -Christina in a most discreet tone of voice. - -“I couldna say.” He laid down the belt, but kept looking at it. - -“Excuse me,” she said softly, lifting the belt and fastening it round -her waist. She was wearing a navy skirt and a scarlet flannel shirt, -with a white collar and black tie. “My waist is just about medium.” -She proceeded to put the combs in her hair. “Of course they would look -better on a brunette.” She permitted herself the faintest of smiles. -“But you can see how they look when they’re being worn.” - -Was there a hint of mockery in the bright grey-blue eyes? Macgregor -did not observe it; nor was he shocked by the crudity and gaudiness of -the ornaments in broad daylight. But perhaps the general effect was -not so shocking. Christina, having previously experimented with the -ornaments, had a pretty good idea of how they appeared upon her. It -would be difficult to describe precisely what Macgregor thought just -then, but it is to be feared that he made the sudden and unexpected -discovery that Jessie Mary was not the only pretty girl in the world. - -“I’ll tak’ them,” he said uneasily, and put his hand in his pocket. - -“Thank you,” said Christina. “Will that be all to-day?” - -“Ay; that’ll be a’.” He had purposed spending the odd penny of his -fund on a birthday card, but for some undefinable reason let the coin -fall back into his pocket. - -Christina proceeded to make a neat parcel. “You’re a stranger here,” -she remarked pleasantly. - -“Ay. But I dinna live far awa’.” Now that the ordeal was over, he was -feeling more at ease. “Ye’ve a nice shop, miss.” - -“Do you think so? I’m very glad you got something to suit you in it. -Thank you! Half-a-crown――two-and-six exactly. _Good_ afternoon!” - -It may be that Macgregor would have stopped to make a remark or two on -his own account, but just then an elderly woman entered the shop. - -“Guidbye, Miss,” he murmured, touching his cap, and departed with his -purchase. - -Christina dropped the silver into the till. To herself she said: “I -doobt he’s no’ as green as he’s cabbage-lookin’.” Aloud: “Nice day, -Mrs. Dunn. Is your little grandson quite well again?” - - - - -CHAPTER FOUR - - -For some weeks Macgregor had nourished an idea of making the birthday -presentation with his own hands. In fancy he had beheld his own -gallant proffering of the gifts, and Jessie Mary’s shy acceptance of -the same. Why he should have foreseen himself bold and Jessie Mary -bashful is a question that may be left to those who have the profound -insight necessary to diagnose the delicate workings of a youthful and -lovelorn imagination. At the same time he had harboured many hopeful -fears and fearful hopes, but to divulge these in detail would be -sacrilege. - -On the day following the purchase of the gifts, however, his original -plan, so simple and straightforward, would seem to have lost something -of its attractiveness. Perhaps he was suddenly assailed by the -cowardice of modesty; possibly he argued, in effect, that the offering -would gain in importance by impersonal delivery. At all events, he -endeavoured, on the way to church, to borrow from Willie Thomson the -sum of threepence――the charge for delivery demanded by a heartless -post-office. Unfortunately Willie’s finances just then were in a most -miserable state, so much so that on this very morning he had been -compelled to threaten his aunt, with whom and on whom he lived, with -the awful vow never to enter a church again unless she supplied him -with twopence on the spot. (This, of course, in addition to the -customary penny for “the plate.”) - -He jingled the coins in his pocket while he confided to Macgregor his -tale of a hard world, and continued to do so while he waited for the -sympathy which past experience of his friend led him to expect. - -It was therefore something of a shock to Willie when Macgregor, -privately fondling the penny which he had not spent on a birthday -card, replied: “I could manage wi’ the tuppence, Wullie. An’ I’ll pay -ye back on Seturday, sure.” - -“Eh?” Willie stopped jingling and clutched his coins tightly. - -Macgregor repeated his words hopefully. - -“Aw, but I canna len’ ye the tuppence,” said Willie, almost -resentfully; adding, “But I’ll gi’e ye a ceegarette or twa when I buy -some.” - -“I’m no’ wantin’ yer ceegarettes,” Macgregor returned, his eyes on the -pavement. - -Willie shot at him a curious glance. “What for d’ye want the tuppence? -Ha’e ye been bettin’ on horses?” - -For a moment Macgregor was tempted to plead guilty of that or any -other crime on the chance of gaining the other’s sympathies and pence. -Instead, however, he answered with caution: “I’ll maybe tell ye, if -ye’ll len’ me the tuppence.” - -Willie laughed. “I’m no’ sae green. Ye best get yer fayther to gi’e ye -the money.” - -“Clay up!” snapped Macgregor, and remained silent for the rest of the -journey. - -Had the money been required for any other object in the world, -Macgregor would probably have gone straightway to his father and -frankly asked for it. But the limits of confidence between son and -parent are reached when the subject is a girl. Nevertheless, it was to -the boy’s credit that he never dreamed of attempting to obtain his -father’s help under false pretences. - -That night he came to the dismal decision to deliver the package -himself at Jessie Mary’s door, at an hour when Jessie Mary would be -certain to be out. There was nothing else for it, as far as he could -see just then. - -The following morning’s light found him at his work――no longer, alas! -in the far west-end with its windfall of pennies for the car, but in -the heart of the city. The man under whom he worked found him so slow -and stupid that he threatened to report him to his employer. -Altogether it was a dreary day, and Macgregor, who usually paid enough -attention to his duties to escape the burden of time, was more than -glad when the last working hour had dragged to its close. - -He went home by an unaccustomed though not entirely unfamiliar route. -It led him past the shop wherein he had made the birthday purchases on -Saturday afternoon. The window was more brightly illuminated than the -majority of its neighbours; the garish contents were even more -attractive than in daylight. Macgregor found himself regarding them -with a half-hearted interest. Presently he noticed that one of the -sliding glass panels at the back of the window was open a few inches. -This aperture permitted him to see the following: A hand writing a -letter on a sloping desk, a long plait of fair hair over a scarlet -shoulder, and a youthful profile with an expression very much in -earnest yet cheerful withal. - -Macgregor could not help watching the writer, and he continued to do -so for several minutes with increasingly lively interest. He was even -wondering to whom the letter might be written, when the writer, having -dipped her pen too deeply, made a horrid, big blot. She frowned and -for an instant put out her tongue. Then, having regarded the blot for -a space with a thoughtful gaze, she seized the pen and with a few deft -touches transformed the blot into the semblance of a black beetle. -Whereupon she smiled with such transparent delight that Macgregor -smiled also. - -“What are ye grinnin’ at?” said a voice at his elbow. - -He turned to discover Willie Thomson. At no time in the whole course -of their friendship had he felt a keener desire to hit Willie on his -impudent nose. “Naething,” he muttered shortly. “Are ye gaun hame?” - -“Ay,” said Willie, noting the other’s discomposure, but not referring -to it directly. “This isna yer usual road hame.” - -“Depends whaur I’m comin’ frae,” returned Macgregor, quickening his -pace. “Ha’e ye got a job yet, Wullie?” he enquired more graciously. - -“I tried yin the day, but it’s no’ gaun to suit me. But I’ve earned -ninepence. I can len’ ye thon thruppence, if ye like.” - -“Aw, I’m no’ needin’ it noo.” - -“Weel, ha’e a ceegarette.” Willie produced a yellow packet. - -“Na, I’m no’ smokin’, Wullie.” - -“What’s wrang wi’ ye?” - -“Naething.... What sort of job was ye tryin’?” - -Willie told him, and thereafter proceeded to recount as many -grievances as there had been hours in his working day. Macgregor -encouraged him to enter into all sorts of detail, so that home was -reached without reference to the shop window which had caused him -amusement. - -“So long,” said Willie, lighting a fresh cigarette. “Maybe see ye -later.” - -“Ah, it’s likely,” Macgregor replied, and turned into the close, glad -to escape. - -“Haud on!” cried Willie. - -“What?” Macgregor halted with reluctance. - -Willie sniggered. “I seen ye wi’ Jessie Mary the ither nicht.” - -“Did ye?” retorted Macgregor feebly. - -“Ay; an’ if I was you, I wud let girls alane. They’re nae fun, an’ -they’re awfu’ expensive.” - -With which sage advice Willie walked off. - -Macgregor made up his mind not to leave the house that evening, yet -eight o’clock found him at the foot of the street wherein Jessie Mary -lived. But he did not go up the street, and at the end of five minutes -he strolled the way he had taken two hours earlier. As he approached a -certain shop the light in its window went out. He marched home -quickly, looking neither right nor left. - - * * * * * - -On the following evening he hired a small boy for the sum of one -halfpenny to deliver the package to Jessie Mary at her abode, and -straightway returned to the parental fireside, where he blushed at the -welcome accorded him. - -That night, however, fate willed it that John Robinson should run out -of tobacco. Macgregor, who had been extremely restless, expressed -himself ready to step down to the tobacco shop in the main street. - -Here it must be mentioned that the gifts had reached Jessie Mary at -precisely the right moment. They had raised her spirits from the -depths of despair to at least the lower heights of hope. Only an hour -before their arrival she had learned how the young man with the -exquisite moustache had treacherously invited another young lady to -accompany him to the Ironmongers’ dance; and although to the ordinary -mind this may appear to have been the simple result of a lack of -superhuman patience on the young man’s part, Jessie Mary could -perceive in it nothing but the uttermost perfidy. So that until the -arrival of Macgregor’s present――“to J. M. from M. with best wishes” -(an “l” had been scraped out where the second “w” now stood)――she had -felt like tearing the pink frock to tatters and preparing for the -tomb. - - * * * * * - -They met near the tobacconist’s――on Macgregor’s home side, by the -way――and he could not have looked more guilty had he sent her an -infernal machine. - -“It was awful kind o’ ye,” she said sweetly; “jist _awful_ kind.” - -“Aw, it was naething,” he stammered. - -“They’re jist lovely, an’ that fashionable,” she went on, and -gradually led the conversation to the subject of the United -Ironmongers’ dance. - -“Ye should come,” she said, “an’ see hoo nice I look wi’ them on. The -belt’ll be lovely wi’ ma pink frock. An’ the combs was surely made for -black hair like mines. Of course I tried them on the minute I got -them.” - -“Did ye?” murmured Macgregor. Where was all the feverish joy, the soft -rapture anticipated three nights ago? “Did ye?”――that was all he said. - -She made allowance for his youth and the bashfulness she had so often -experienced. “Macgreegor,” she whispered, slipping her hand through -his arm, in the darkness of the street leading to her home, -“Macgreegor, I believe I wud suner dance wi’ you than onybody else.” - -Macgregor seemed to have nothing to say. The touch of her hand was -pleasant, and yet he was uneasy. - -“Macgreegor,” she said presently, a little breathlessly, “I’m no’ -heedin’ aboot ony o’ the chaps that wants to tak’ me to the dance. If -ye had a ticket――――” She paused. They had halted in the close-mouth, -as it is locally termed. “I’m sayin’, Macgreegor, if ye had a -ticket――――” She paused again. - -The boy felt foolish and wretched. “But I canna gang to the dance, -Jessie Mary,” he managed to say. - -She leaned closer to him. “It’ll be a splendid dance――at least”――she -looked at him boldly――“it wud be splendid if you and me was gaun -thegether.” - -In his wildest of wild dreams he may have thought of kissing this -girl. He might have done it now――quite easily. - -But he didn’t――he couldn’t. - -“Na; I canna gang,” he said. “An’――an’ ma fayther’ll be waitin’ for -his tobacco. Guidnicht.” He glanced at her with a miserable smile, and -departed――bolted. - -Poor Jessie Mary with her little natural vanities! - -Poor Macgregor! He went home hot and ashamed――he could not have told -why. He did not grudge the gifts, yet vaguely wished he had not given -them. - -And he dreamed that night of, among other queer things, a shop window, -a plait of fair hair on a scarlet shoulder, and a black beetle. - - - - -CHAPTER FIVE - - -“Mercy, laddie!” exclaimed Mrs. Robinson, as her son entered the -kitchen, a little late for tea. “What ha’e ye been daein’ to yer -face?” - -The colour induced by the question seemed almost to extinguish the -hectic spot at Macgregor’s left cheek-bone. - -“Washin’ it,” he answered shortly, taking his accustomed chair. - -“But it’s cut.” - -“Tits, Lizzie!” muttered Mr. Robinson. “Are ye for toast, Macgreegor?” - -“He’s been shavin’ his whiskers,” said Jimsie. “Did ye no’ ken -Macgreegor’s gettin’ whiskers, Maw?” he went on in spite of a warning -pressure from sister Jeannie. “Paw, what way dae folk get whiskers?” - -“Dear knows,” returned his father briefly. “Lizzie, can ye no’ gi’e -Macgreegor a cup o’ tea?” - -Lizzie lifted the cosy from the brown teapot. “Where did ye get the -razor, Macgreegor?” - -“He hasna got a razor, Maw,” said Jimsie. “He does it wi’ a wee -knife.” - -“Shurrup!” Macgreegor growled, whereupon Jimsie choked and his eyes -filled with tears. - -“Macgreegor,” said his mother, “that’s no’ the way to speak to yer wee -brither.” - -“Macgreegor,” said his sister, “I’ll mak’ ye a bit o’ hot toast, if ye -like.” - -“Ay, Jeannie,” said John quickly, “mak’ him a bit o’ hot toast, an’ -I’ll look after Jimsie.” He turned the conversation to the subject of -a great vessel that had been launched into the Clyde that morning. - -Sullenly Macgregor took the cup from his mother’s hand and forthwith -devoted his attention to his meal. Seldom had resentment taken such -possession of his soul. Another word from his mother or Jimsie, and he -would have retorted violently and flung out of the room. The mild -intervention of his sister and father had saved a scene. Though his -face cooled, his heart remained hot; though hungry, he ate little, -including the freshly made toast, which he accepted with a -gracelessness that probably shamed him even more than it hurt Jeannie. -Poor sensitive, sulky youth!――a hedge-hog with its skin turned -outside-in could not suffer more. - -For the first time in the course of his married life John Robinson -really doubted Lizzie’s discretion. It was with much diffidence, -however, that he referred to the matter after Macgregor had gone out, -and while Jeannie was superintending Jimsie’s going to bed. - -“Lizzie,” he began, eyeing his cold pipe, “did ye happen to notice -that Macgreegor was a wee thing offended the nicht?” - -Mrs. Robinson did not halt in her business of polishing a bread plate. -“Macgreegor’s gettin’ ower easy offended,” she said, carelessly -enough. - -John struck a match and held it without application to his pipe until -the flame scorched his hardened fingers. “Speakin’ frae experience,” -he said slowly, “there’s twa things that a young man tak’s vera -serious-like. The first――――” - -“Wha’s the young man?” - -“Macgreegor.... Aw, Lizzie!” - -“Macgreegor’s a laddie.” - -“He’s a young man――an’ fine ye ken it, wife!” - -Lizzie put down the plate and took up another. “An’ what does he tak’ -serious-like?” she enquired, coolly. - -“Firstly,” said John, with a great effort, and stuck. - -“Ye’ll be preachin’ a sermon directly,” said she. “Can ye no’ licht -yer pipe an’ speak nateral?” - -“Hoo can I speak nateral when I ken ye’re makin’ a mock o’ me?” - -“Havers, man!” she said, becoming good-humoured lest he should lose -his temper; “licht yer pipe. I’m listenin’.” - -John lit his pipe in exceedingly methodical fashion. “Weel, Lizzie,” -he began at last, “I jist wanted to say that when a young man’s -gettin’ hair on his face, ye――ye shouldna notice it.” - -“I didna notice it.” - -“Weel, ye shouldna refer to it.” - -“It was the cut I referred to.” - -John sucked at his pipe and scratched his head. “That’s true,” he -admitted. “Still, if yer sister had a wudden leg, ye wudna refer to -the noise on the stair. It wasna like ye, Lizzie, to hurt Macgreegor’s -feelin’s.” - -Mrs. Robinson put down the plate with an unusual clatter. Hurt -Macgreegor’s feelings!――She?――The idea! “Are ye feenished?” she -snapped. - -John nerved himself. “There’s anither thing that it’s best no’ to -refer to――anither thing that a young man tak’s vera serious-like. When -a young man begins to tak’ an interest in the lassies――――” - -“Oh, man, can ye no stop haverin’?” she cried. “Ha’e ye forgot the -laddie’s age?” - -“It’s the shavin’ age, an’ that means――――” - -“Ma brither Rubbert was nineteen afore he put a razor to his face.” - -“Yer brither Rubbert was never what I wud ca’ a female fancier. Of -course that wasna his fau’t; he was jist as the Lord made him, and -he’s turned oot a vera successful man, an’ for a’ we ken his wife -Sarah’s maybe better nor she’s bonny. But yer son Macgreegor――――” - -“Macgreegor wud never look at the lassies. He’s ower shy.” - -“Whiles it’s the kind that doesna look that leaps the furdest. But -there’s waur things in the world nor razors and lassies,” said John, -with a feeble laugh, “an’ I jist wanted to warn ye no’ to ask -questions, even though ye should see Macgreegor weerin’ his Sunday tie -every nicht in the week! I hope ye’re no’ offended, Lizzie.” - -But it is to be feared that Lizzie was offended just then. She had not -been the better half for eighteen years without knowing it; she had -grown to expect her easy-going husband’s cheerful acquiescence in -practically all she did, and to regard her acceptance of his most mild -remonstrances as a sort of favour. And now he was actually giving her -advice concerning her treatment of her firstborn! It was too much for -her pride. - -She set her mouth in a hard line, threw up her head, and proceeded -with her polishing. - -John waited for a couple of minutes, then sighed and took up his -evening paper. - - * * * * * - -Meanwhile Macgregor was having his troubles. He contrived to dodge -Willie Thomson, who nowadays seemed always to be where he was not -wanted, but the operation involved a _detour_ of nearly a quarter of a -mile, in the course of which he was held up by another youth of his -acquaintance. Ten minutes were wasted in listening with ill-concealed -impatience to fatuous observations on the recent play of certain -professional footballers, and then he continued his journey only to -fall, metaphorically speaking, into the arms of Jessie Mary emerging -from a shop. - -“Hullo, Mac! I thought ye was deid!” was her blithe greeting, the -“sausage roll” phrase having at long last served its day. “Ye’re in a -hurry,” she added, “but so am I, so ye can walk back to the corner wi’ -me.” - -Macgregor mumbled something to the effect that he was in no special -hurry, and, possibly in order to give a touch of truth to his -falsehood, turned and accompanied her. - -“Ye’ve no’ been gi’ein’ the girls a treat lately,” she remarked. “I -ha’ena noticed ye floatin’ aroun’. Ha’e ye been keepin’ the hoose at -nicht?” - -“Whiles,” he replied, and enquired with some haste, “Hoo did ye enjoy -the dance last week, Jessie?” - -“Oh, dinna mention it!” she cried, with a toss of her head. “I didna -gang to it.” - -“Ye didna gang to the dance!” - -“If I had went, it wud ha’e meant bloodshed,” she impressively -informed him. “Ye see, there was twa chaps implorin’ me to gang wi’ -them, an’ they got that fierce aboot it that I seen it wudna ha’e been -safe to gang wi’ either. A riot in a ballroom is no’ a nice thing. An’ -if I had went wi’ a third party, it wud ha’e been as much as _his_ -life was worth. So I jist bided at hame.” - -Macgregor began, but was not allowed to complete, a sympathetic -remark. - -“Oh, I was glad I didna gang. The dance turned oot to be a second-rate -affair entirely――no’ half-a-dizzen shirt fronts in the comp’ny. An’ I -believe there wasna three o’ the men could dance for nuts, an’ the -refreshments was rotten.” - -They had now reached the appointed corner. - -“Jist as weel ye didna gang, then,” absently said Macgregor, halting. - -“Come up to the close,” said Jessie Mary. “I’ve something to show ye. -Ay; it was jist as weel, as ye say. But there’s a champion dance -comin’ off on the nineteenth o’ November――the young men o’ the hosiery -department are gettin’ it up――naething second-rate aboot _it_. Ye -should come to it, Macgreegor.” She touched his arm――unintentionally -perhaps. “Plenty o’ pretty girls――though I wudna guarantee their -dancin’. I’ve no’ decided yet wha I’ll gang wi’.” She paused. -Macgregor did not speak. “Ye see, I’m parteec’lar wha I dance wi’,” -she went on softly, “an’ I expec’ you’re the same. Some girls are like -bags o’ flour an’ ithers are like telegraph poles, but there’ll be few -o’ that sort at the hosiery dance. An’ onyway”――she laughed――“ye could -aye fa’ back on _this_ girl――eh?” - -“I dinna think ye wud be that hard up for a partner,” said Macgregor, -suddenly stimulated by a flash of her eyes in the lamplight. “But I’m -no’ awfu’ keen on the dancin’.” - -“Ye danced fine when ye was a wee laddie. I mind when ye danced the -Highland Fling in the kitchen, on Hogmanay. That was the nicht I had -to kiss ye to get ye oot o’ the ring. Ye was ower shy to kiss me. An’ -you an’ Wullie Thomson started the fightin’, because he laughed. D’ye -mind?” - -“That’s an auld story,” he said, with embarrassment. - -“I suppose it is,” she admitted reluctantly. Then cheerfully: “Weel, -here we are! But wait till I let ye see something.” She halted at the -mouth of the close and began to unbutton her jacket. - -“Ye’ve never seen the belt since ye gi’ed it to me, Macgreegor. I weer -it whiles in the evenin’. There ye are! It looks fine, does it no’? -Maybe a wee thing wide. I could dae wi’ it an inch or twa tighter. -Feel.” - -She took his hand and slid his fingers between the metal and the white -cotton blouse. Jessie Mary had at least one quite admirable -characteristic: she doted on white garments and took pride in their -spotlessness. A very elemental sense for the beautiful, yet who dare -despise it? In these grimy days purity of any kind is great gain. - -This girl’s hunger for the homage and admiration of the other sex was -not so much abnormal as unrestrained. Her apparent lack of modesty was -in reality a superabundance of simplicity――witness her shallow -artifices and transparent little dishonesties which deceived few save -herself and the callowest of youths. Men “took their fun off her.” And -even Macgregor was not to be entrapped now. There is nothing so dead -as the fallen fancy of a boy. Moreover, Macgregor was still at the -stage when a girl’s face is her whole fortune, when the trimmest waist -and the prettiest curves are no assets whatsoever. - -For a moment or two he fingered the belt, awkwardly, to be sure, but -with as much emotion as though it were a dog’s collar. - -“Ay,” he said, “ye’re ower jimp for it.” And put his hand in his -pocket. - -Then, indeed, it was forced on Jessie Mary that somehow her charms had -failed to hold her youngest admirer. The knowledge rankled. Yet she -carried it off fairly well. - -“Ye’re no’ the first to tell me I’ve an extra sma’ waist,” she said, -with a toss of her head. Then, as if struck by a remembrance of some -duty or engagement: “But I’ve nae mair time to stan’ gassin’ wi’ you. -So long!” She ran briskly up the stone stair, humming a popular tune. - -“So long,” returned Macgregor, and resumed his interrupted journey, -rather pleased than otherwise with himself. He realised, though not in -so many words, that he had conducted himself in more manly fashion -than ever before. It did not for a moment occur to him that he had -left a big “Why?” behind him, not only in the mind of Jessie Mary, but -in Willie Thomson’s also. - - * * * * * - -His pilgrimage ended at the illuminated window of M. Tod’s stationery -and fancy goods shop. Jingling the few coppers in his pockets, he -appeared to be deliberating a weighty problem of extensive purchases, -while, as a matter of fact, he inwardly debated the most profitable -ways of wasting a penny. While he would now gladly have given all he -possessed――to wit, ninepence――to win a smile from the girl with the -scarlet blouse and the ripe-corn-yellow pigtail, he was not prepared -to squander more than he could help for the benefit of her employer. -The opaque panels at the back of the window were closed, the door of -the shop was composed chiefly of ground glass; wherefore he had no -inkling as to which person he was likely to encounter at the receipt -of custom. He was hoping and waiting for a customer to enter the shop, -so that he might gain a glimpse of the interior with the opening of -the door, when suddenly the lights in the window were lowered. -Evidently it was near to closing time. - -Hastily deciding to “burst” the sum of one penny on the purchase of a -pencil――an article for which he had more respect than use――he entered -the doorway and turned the handle. He had forgotten the spring bell. -When he pushed the door inwards, it “struck one”――right from the -shoulder, so to speak. Who will assert that the ordinary healthy youth -has no nerves? ’Tis a hoggishly healthy youth who does not bustle with -them. The sturdy Macgregor wavered on the threshold; and as he wavered -he heard behind him a badly stifled guffaw. - -Next moment a hearty push in the small of the back propelled him into -the shop. With a hot countenance he pulled up, guessing who had pushed -him, and strove to look as if this were his usual mode of entering a -place of business. In his confusion he missed the quick glance of the -girl seated at the desk on the window-end of the counter. Her head was -bent low over her writing. He noticed, however, that she was wearing a -white blouse――which did not remind him of Jessie Mary――and that she -had a scarlet bow at her neck. - -“Yes, sir?” A mouse-like human being slipped from the back of the shop -to the middle point of the counter. “Yes, sir?” it repeated, with an -accent on the query. The girl at the desk took no notice. - -Macgregor approached. “I was wantin’ a pencil,” he said in the tone of -one requesting a pint of prussic acid. - -“A pencil!” exclaimed the mouse-like human being, as though she had a -dim recollection of hearing of such a thing long, long ago. “A -pencil――oh, certainly,” she added, more hopefully. - -“Penny or ha’penny,” murmured the girl at the desk. - -“Penny or ha’penny?” demanded the mouse-like human being, almost -pertly. - -Men didn’t expect change out of a penny! “A penny yin,” said Macgregor -with an attempt at indifference. He tried to look at the girl, but -could not get his eyes higher than her elbow. - -“A penny pencil!” The mouse-like human being assumed an expression -suitable to a person who has just discovered the precise situation of -the North Pole, but not the Pole itself. - -“Top drawer on your left, Miss Tod,” whispered the girl at the desk. - -“Quite so, Christina,” Miss Tod replied with dignity. There were times -when she might have been accused of copying her assistant’s manners. -She opened the drawer, which was a deep one, peered into it, groped, -and brought forth three bundles of pencils. With sudden mildness she -enquired of the girl: “These?... Those?” - -“No; them!” said Christina, forgetting her grammar and grabbing the -third bundle. “Wait a minute.” She slipped lightly from her stool and -gently edged M. Tod from the position at the counter which had been -familiar to the latter for five-and-thirty years. “This,” she said to -Macgregor, laying the bundle in front of him, “is a special line. One -dozen――price threepence.” She looked over his head in a manner -suggesting that it was quite immaterial to her whether he purchased -the dozen or faded away on the spot. - -But he had his dignity too. Producing three pennies from two pockets, -he laid them on the counter, took up the bundle of pencils, said -“Thank ye” to nobody in particular, and marched out. Nor did he forget -to close the door behind him. - -The stationer and her assistant regarded each other for several -seconds. - -“Dae ye think,” said M. Tod slowly, “that that young man is a -newspaper reporter?” - -“No,” replied Christina, with a sniff or two of her straight little -nose. - -“Or a pictur’ artist?” said M. Tod, conveying the two bundles to the -wrong drawer. - -Christina, without a word, recovered them and put them into their -proper places. She mounted her stool and whipped up a pen. - -M. Tod sighed. “I never used to keep pencils at that price. They canna -be vera guid.” - -“They’re rotten.” - -“Oh, lassie!” - -“Sell――or gang bankrupt,” said Christina with enough bitter cynicism -for twenty-one. “There’s a penny profit on the bundle. _Ex_――cuse me.” -She dipped her pen. - - * * * * * - -As Macgregor was nearing his home, a prey to misery and wroth, a -grinning face popped from a close-mouth. - -“Haw! haw! Macgreegor! So ye’re courtin’, are ye?” - -As the clock incontinently strikes when the hour has come, so struck -Macgregor. And he struck so hard, that it was afterwards necessary he -should see Willie Thomson to the latter’s door. Alone again, he cast -the bundle of pencils into a dark entry and made his way home. - -His father opened the door, smiling a welcome. “Weel, Macgreegor――――” - -“I’m wearied,” said the boy, and passed straightway to his room and -bolted the door. Jimsie was sleeping like a log, and was, as usual, -occupying most of the bed. - -Macgregor stood at the old chest of drawers that served as -dressing-table, his elbows planted thereon, his face in his hands. He -_was_ wearied. - -But under his tired eyes lay a small oblong package with a covering of -newspaper. The neatness of it made him think of his mother; she had a -way of making next to nothing look something important in a parcel. - -Presently, wondering a little, he undid the paper. - -It contained one of his father’s old razors. - -Five minutes later he was enjoying a _real_ shave. The luxury was only -exceeded by the importance he felt! And only two cuts that bled worth -mentioning.... - -How one’s life may be changed in two short hours! - -But Macgregor was still without regret for having flung the pencils -into the dark entry. - - - - -CHAPTER SIX - - -Circumstance rather than circumspection was accountable for the fact -that Macgregor followed the elusive, winding trail of love alone. The -tender adventures of our ’teens usually consist in encounters between -two boys and two girls; two friends who tacitly admit that they want -to meet the girls; two friends who pretend that they do not want to -see the boys at any distance; and to sum up, two pairs of young human -beings with but a single thought――themselves. Also it may happen, now -and then, that for lack of likelier company Prince Charming goes -hunting with Master Fathead, while Princess Lilian Rose lays the scent -along with Miss Gooseberry, which but adds plausibility to the -assumption that neither sex has the courage of its inclinations. For -to be honest, there is no cowardice like that of lad’s love; no -hypocrisy like that of lass’s. But, surely, you remember! And if so it -happened that in your own day you, perforce, fared solitary to the -chase, you will sympathise all the more with the unheroic hero of this -slight record. - -In this respect Macgregor was not fortunate in his male friends. The -oldest thereof, Willie Thomson, openly contemned the female sex, not -omitting his aunt; the others confined their gallantries to the breezy -pastimes of pushing girls off the sidewalk, bawling pleasantries after -them, and guffawing largely at their own wit or the feminine -_repartee_. Their finer instincts were doubtless still dormant. The -only mortals worthy of respect were sundry more or less prominent -personages whose feet or fists were their fortunes. In these days the -adoration of the active by the inert is, one hopes, at its zenith of -inflation. Again, to put it now in metaphor, Macgregor’s friends could -do with a brass band in scarlet uniform all the time, but they had no -use for a secret orchestra of muted strings. All of which was -perfectly natural――just as natural as Macgregor’s inexplicable -preference for the secret orchestra. Spring comes early or late; the -calendar neither foretells nor records its coming. A lad and a -lass――how and when and why the one first realises that the other is -more than a mere human being are questions without answers. Well, it -is a mercy that the world still holds something that cannot be -explained away. - -In one sense this boy was no more refined than his neighbours; in -another they were coarser than he. Remains the fact that he followed -the trail alone――or thought he did. - -Willie Thomson, for one, was interested. He had been interested to the -extent of grinning in Macgregor’s early tenderness for little Katie, -and to the extent of sniggering in his friend’s bashful pursuit of -Jessie Mary. But now the interest was that of the boy who discovers a -nest just beyond his hand and wonders what sort of eggs he will get -if, somehow, he can reach it. On the whole, Willie resented his -swollen nose and cut lip less than the recent ill-disguised attempts -to avoid his company. The latter rankled. Truth to tell, without -Macgregor he was rather a lonely creature, a kind of derelict. No one -really wanted him. He was not without acquaintances, shirkers like -himself; but in the congregation of loafers is no true comradeship. -Without admitting it even to himself, he still admired the boy who had -faithfully championed his cause――not always virtuous――in the past, -whose material possessions he had invariably shared, whose stolid -sense of honour had so often puzzled his own mischievous mind, whose -home he had envied despite a certain furtive dread of the woman who -ruled there. Altogether it may be questioned whether Willie’s grudge -was directed against his old friend and not against that which had -caused his old friend’s defection. At all events, he began to spare -Macgregor any necessity for dodging, and took to shadowing him on his -solitary strolls. - -On the grey Saturday afternoon of the week rendered so eventful by his -first real shave, Macgregor was once more standing by the window of M. -Tod’s shop. He was endeavouring to prop up his courage with the -recollection of the fact that a fortnight ago, at the same hour as the -present, there had been no old woman behind the counter, and with the -somewhat rash deduction that no old woman was there now. - -He was also wondering what he could buy for a penny without making a -fool of himself. The spending of a penny when there is absolutely -nothing one wants to buy is not quite so simple a transaction as at -first thought it may seem――unless, of course, the shop is packed with -comestibles; and even then one may hesitate to choose. Besides, -Macgregor was obsessed by the memory of the pencil transaction of -three nights ago. Had he but kept his head then, and confined his -purchase to a single pencil, he might now have had a fair excuse for -requiring another. At any rate, he could have met suspicion with the -explanation that he had lost the first. But who would believe that he -had used, or lost, a whole dozen within the brief space of three days? - -A wretched position to be in, for nothing else in the world of -stationery was quite so natural and easy to ask for as a -pencil――unless a―――― Why had he not thought of it before?――a pen! -Saved! He would enter boldly, as one who had every right to do so, and -demand to be shown some pencils――no, pens, of course. There were many -varieties of pens, he knew, even in small shops, so his selection -would take time――lots of time! If only he were _sure_ the old woman -wasn’t there. - -And just then the bell rang, the door of the shop opened and closed, -and the old woman herself came out. In spite of her hat Macgregor -recognised her at once. She turned her face skywards to make certain -that it wasn’t raining, gave a satisfied smirk, which Macgregor -accepted with a fearful start, though it was intended for the window -and its contents, and trotted up the street. - -On the wave of relief, as it were, Macgregor was carried from the -window to the entrance. Yet he had no sooner opened the door with its -disconcerting note of warning than he wished he had delayed a minute -or two longer. To retire, however, was out of the question. He closed -the door as though he were afraid of wakening a baby, and faced the -counter. - -The girl was there, and wearing the scarlet blouse again. Laying aside -the magazine which she had just picked up, she smiled coldly and said -calmly: “Good-afternoon. Nice day after the rain.” - -In mentally rehearsing his entrance the previous night Macgregor had, -among other things, seen himself raise his brand-new bowler hat. To -his subsequent shame and regret, he now omitted to perform the little -courtesy. That he should forget his manners was perhaps even less -surprising than that he should forget the hat itself, which gripped -his head in a cruel fashion. - -“Ay,” he said solemnly in response to the polite greeting, and -advanced to the counter. - -“Not just so disagreeable as yesterday,” she added, a trifle more -cordially. - -“Ay――na.” He glanced up and down the counter. “I――I was wantin’ a -pencil,” he said at last. - -“A _pencil_!” cried Christina; then in a voice from which all the -amazement had gone: “A pencil――oh, certainly.” - -Macgregor reddened, opened his mouth and――shut it. Why should he make -a bigger fool of himself by explaining that he had meant to say “a -pen?” Besides (happy thought!) the pen would be an excuse for calling -another time. - -Christina opened the drawer and paused, pursing her lips. Her tone was -casual as she said: “I hope you found the dozen you bought lately -quite satisfactory.” - -“Oh――ay, they were――splendid.” Macgregor blushed again. - -Christina smiled as prettily as any musical comedy actress selling -guinea button-holes at a charity fête. She said: “I’ll tell Miss Tod. -She’ll be delighted. It’s a great saving, buying a dozen, isn’t it?” -Her hand went into the drawer. “Especially when one uses so many. It’s -hardly worth while buying a single pencil, is it?” Her hand came out -of the drawer and laid a bundle in front of Macgregor. “Wonderful how -they can do it for threepence!” - -He stared at the bundle, his will fluttering like a bird under a -strawberry net. Dash the pencils!――but she might be offended if―――― - -“Some shops sell those pencils at a ha’penny each, I know,” she went -on; “and I believe some have the neck――I mean the cheek to ask a -penny. Would you like me to put them in paper, sir?” - -Recovering from the shock of the “sir,” Macgregor shook his head, and -laid three coppers on the counter. - -“Thank you,” said she. “Is there anything else to-day?” - -Before he could answer, the door opened and an elderly man entered. At -the ring of the bell Macgregor dropped the bundle; the flimsy -fastening parted, and the pencils were scattered. - -Christina checked an “Oh, crickey!” and turned to attend to the second -customer while the first collected his purchases from the floor. - -The elderly man wanted a newspaper only, but thanks to Christina’s -politeness over the transaction, he went out feeling as if he had done -quite a stroke of business. - -“I think you should let me tie them up for you,” she said to -Macgregor, who was rising once more, rather red in the face. - -“Thank ye,” he said apologetically, handing her the pencils. - -“Accidents will happen,” she remarked cheerfully. “If they didn’t, -there would be mighty little happening. I say, there’s only eleven -pencils here.” - -“The ither rolled ablow the counter. It doesna matter,” he said. - -“Oh, but that won’t do. See, I’ll give you another now, and get the -one under the counter some day――next stock-taking, maybe.” She began -to make a parcel, then halted in the operation. “Are you sure there’s -nothing else that I can show you to-day, sir?” - -Macgregor didn’t want to go just yet, so he appeared to be thinking -deeply. - -“Essay paper――notebooks,” she murmured; “notepaper――envelopes―― -indiarubber――――” - -“Injinrubber,” said Macgregor. (He would give it to Jimsie.) - -She turned and whipped a box from a shelf. “Do you prefer the red or -the white――species?” she enquired, and felt glad she hadn’t said -“sort.” - -“Oh, I’m no heedin’ which,” he replied generously, with a bare glance -at the specimens laid out for his inspection. - -“All the same price――one penny per cake. The red is more flexible.” By -way of exhibiting its quality, she took the oblong lengthwise between -her finger and thumb and squeezed. To her dismay it sprang from her -grip and struck her customer on the chin. - -“Oh, mercy!” she exclaimed. “I didna mean――” - -Recovering the missile from the floor, he said gravely: “My! ye’re a -comic!” - -“I’m not! I tell ye I didna mean it. Did it hurt ye?” - -“No’ likely! I ken ye didna try it.” He smiled faintly. “If ye had -tried to hit me, ye wud ha’e missed me.” - -“If I had tried, I wud ha’e hit ye a heap harder,” she said -indignantly. - -“Try, then.” His smile broadened as he offered her the cake. “I’ll -stan’ still.” - -Christina’s sporting instinct was roused. “I’ll bet ye the price o’ -the cake I hit ye.” And let fly. - -It went over his left shoulder. - -“Ha’e anither shot,” he said, stooping to pick up the rubber. - -But as swiftly as it had gone her professional dignity returned. -Macgregor came back to the counter to receive a stiff: “Thank you. Do -you require anything else to-day?” - -His mumbled negative, his disappointed countenance reproached her. - -“Of course,” she said pleasantly, as she put his purchases in paper, -“I cannot charge you for the indiarubber.” - -“Aw, cheese it!” he muttered shortly, flinging a penny on the counter. - -“I beg your pardon?”――this with supreme haughtiness. - -“Oh, ye needna. An’ ye can keep yer injinrubber――an’ yer pencils -forbye!” With these words he wheeled about and strode for the door. - -Christina collapsed. A customer who paid for goods and then -practically threw them at her was beyond her experience and -comprehension. - -“Here!” she cried. “Stop a minute! I――I was jist jokin’. Come back an’ -get yer things. We’ll no’ quarrel aboot the penny.” - -With his fingers on the handle he paused and regarded her half -angrily, half reproachfully. He wanted to say something very cutting, -but it wouldn’t come. - -“Please,” said Christina softly, dropping her eyes. “Ye’ll get me into -trouble if ye dinna tak’ them.” - -“Eh?” - -“Miss Tod wud be vexed wi’ me for lossin’ a guid customer. She wud -gi’e me the sack, maybe.” - -“Wud she?――the auld besom!” cried Macgregor, retracing his steps. - -“Oh, whisht! She’s no’ an auld besom. But I ken she wud be vexed.” -Christina sighed. “I suppose I’m to blame for――――” - -“It’s me that’s to blame,” he interrupted. “Here!” he said in an -unsteady whisper, “will ye shake han’s?” - -After a momentary hesitation she gave him her hand, saying graciously: -“I’ve no objections, I’m sure. To tell the truth,” she went on, “I am -not entirely disinterested in you, sir.” - -Macgregor withdrew his empty hand. “I――I wish ye wudna speak like -that,” he sighed. - -“Like what?” - -“That awfu’ genteel talk.” - -“Sorry,” she said. “But it gangs doon wi’ maist o’ the customers. -Besides, I try to keep it up to please ma aunt. But it doesna soun’ -frien’ly-like, does it?” - -“That’s why I dinna like it,” he ventured, more easily. - -“I see. But if ye was servin’ in a shop ye wud ha’e to speak the same -way.” - -“I’m in the pentin’ trade,” he informed her, with an air of -importance. - -“I’ve a nose――but I like the smell fine. Ye’re no’ offended, are ye?” - -“I’m no’ that easy offended. Is Miss Tod yer aunt?” - -“Na, na; she’s nae relation. Ma aunt is Mrs. James Baldwin.” In the -frankest fashion she gave a brief sketch of her position on the -world’s surface. While she spoke she seated herself on the stool, and -Macgregor, without thinking about it, subsided upon the chair and -leant his arm upon the counter. Ere she ended they were regarding each -other almost familiarly. - -Anon Macgregor furnished a small account of himself and his near -relatives. - -“That’s queer!” commented Christina when he had finished. - -“What?” he asked, anxiously. - -“Ma Uncle James is a great frien’ o’ your Uncle Purdie. Your uncle -buys a heap o’ fancy things frae mine, an’ he’s often been in oor -hoose. I hear he’s worth a terrible heap o’ money, but naebody wud -think it. I like him fine.” - -“Ye wudna like ma aunt fine,” said Macgregor. - -“No’ bein’ acquaint wi’ her, I canna say,” Christina returned. “But I -believe if it hadna been for her yer uncle wud never ha’e made his -fortune at the grocery trade――――” - -“Her! What had she got to dae wi’ ’t?” - -“Dear knows; but Uncle James says she egged him on to mak’ money frae -the day she married him. But mony a woman does that. I wud dae it -masel’――no’ that I’m greedy; I jist couldna endure a man that didna -get on. I hate a stick-in-the-mud. It’s a fac’, though, that Mr. -Purdie got the push-on frae his wife. An’ Uncle James says he’s no’ -near done yet: he’ll be Lord Provost afore he’s feenished. Ye should -keep in wi’ yer Uncle Purdie.” - -Macgregor scarcely heard her latter words. His Aunt Purdie responsible -for his Uncle Purdie’s tremendous success in business! The idea was -almost shocking. From his earliest boyhood it had been a sort of -religion with him to admire his uncle and despise his aunt. Could any -good thing come out of Aunt Purdie? - -“I doobt yer Uncle James doesna ken _her_ extra weel,” he said at -last. - -“Oh, ma uncle’s a splendid judge o’ character,” she assured him. -“Especially female character,” she added. “That’s why he married ma -aunt an’ adopted me. I took his name, like ma aunt did when she -married him. It was a love match, in spite o’ their ages. There’s -grander names, but nane better, nor Baldwin. In ma youth I called it -Bald-yin to tease ma aunt when she was saft on him. But never heed -aboot that the noo. D’ye ken what astonishes me aboot yersel’?” - -“What?” asked Macgregor, startled. - -“That ye’re no’ in the grocery trade.” - -“Me! What for wud I be a grocer?” - -“What for are ye a penter? An’ yer Uncle Purdie has nae offspring. My! -if I had had a chance like you!” She heaved a sigh. “I’m sure yer -uncle wud ha’e ta’en ye into his business. Ye canna be sae stupid that -he wudna gi’e ye even a trial. Nae offence intended.” - -“I could ha’e been in the business if I had wanted,” Macgregor -replied, with some dignity. “He offered me a job when I left the -schule. But, ye see, I aye had the notion to be a penter. I like to be -movin’ ma han’s an’ feet.” - -“An’ what did yer parents say?” - -“They canna thole Aunt Purdie. It was her that brought the message -frae ma uncle――as if it was a favour. They said I was to choose for -masel’.” - -“Pride’s an awfu’ thing for costin’ folk cash,” the girl remarked, -with a shake of her head. - -“Eh?” - -“Naething,” she replied. After a slight pause she continued: “It’s no’ -for me to speak aboot yer parents, but I hope ye’ll excuse me sayin’ -that ye’re a bigger fool than ye look.” - -“Wha――what d’ye mean?” - -“I didna mean to insult ye or hurt yer feelin’s.” Another pause. “D’ye -no’ want to get up in the world, man? D’ye no’ want to be a -millionaire――or a thoosandaire, onyway?” - -“Me?” - -“Ay, you!” - -Across the counter he regarded her in a semi-dazed fashion, -speechless. She was rather flushed; her eyes danced with eagerness. -Apparently she was all in earnest. - -“Are ye gaun to be a penter a’ yer life?” she demanded. - -“What for no’?” he retorted with some spirit. “It’s guid pay.” - -“Guid pay! In ten year what’ll ye be makin’?” - -“I couldna say. Maybe――maybe twenty-five shillin’s; maybe――――” - -“A week?” - -“Ay; of course,” he said, nettled. “D’ye think I meant a month?” - -“If ye was wi’ yer uncle an’ stickin’ to yer business, I wud ha’e said -’a day’! Ma gracious goodness! if ye was pleasin’ a man like that, -there’s nae sayin’ where ye wud be in ten year.” - -“Ach,” he said, with an attempt at lightness, “I’m no’ heedin’.” - -Christina doubled her fist and smote the counter with such violence -that he fairly jumped on his seat. - -“Ye’re no’ heedin’! What’s the use o’ bein’ alive if ye’re no’ -heedin’? But ye’re a’ the same, you young workin’ men. Yer rule is to -dae the least ye can for yer wages, an’ never snap at an opportunity. -An’ when ye get aulder ye gang on strike an’ gas aboot yer rights, but -ye keep dumb enough aboot yer deserts, an’――――” - -“Here, haud on!” cried Macgregor, now thoroughly roused. “What dae you -ken aboot it? Ye’re jist a lassie――――” - -“I’ve eyes an’ ears.” - -There was a pause. - -“Are ye a――a suffragist?” he asked, weakly. - -“I ha’ena quite decided on that p’int. Are you in favour o’ votes for -females? Aweel, there’s nae use answerin’, for ye’ve never thought -aboot it. I suppose, like the ither young men aboot here, ye buy yer -brains every Seturday done up in the sports edition o’ the evenin’ -paper. Oh, Christopher Columbus! that’s when _I_ get busy on a -Seturday nicht. Footba’――footba’――footba’!” - -Macgregor swallowed these remarks, and reverted to the previous -question. “What,” he enquired a little loftily, “dae _you_ expec’ to -be earnin’ ten year frae the noo?” - -Promptly, frankly, she replied: “If I’m no’ drawin’ thirty shillin’s a -week I’ll consider masel’ a bad egg. Of course, it a’ depends on -whether I select to remain single or itherwise.” - -This was too much for Macgregor. He surveyed her with such blank -bewilderment that she burst out laughing. - -He went red to the roots of his hair, or at any rate to the edge of -his hat. “Oh, I kent fine ye was coddin’ me,” he said crossly, looking -hurt and getting to his feet. - -She stopped laughing at once. “That’s the worst o’ talkin’ plain sense -nooadays; folk think ye’re only coddin’,” she observed, good-humouredly. -“I’m sorry I vexed ye.” Impulsively she held out her hand. “I doobt -we’ll ha’e to shake again.” - -This, also, was too much for Macgregor. He seized her fingers in a -grip that made her squeal. - -And just then bang went the bell above the door. - -Christina bit her lip and smiled through her tears as M. Tod entered -the shop. - -“Anything else to-day?” she enquired in her politest voice, and placed -the little parcel under Macgregor’s hand. - -His reply was inaudible. His hand closed automatically on his -purchase, his eyes met hers for the fraction of a second, and then he -practically bolted. - -“Young men are aye in sich a great hurry nooadays,” remarked M. Tod, -beginning to remove her gloves. - -“He’s the young man that bought the dizzen pencils the ither nicht,” -Christina explained, examining the joints of her right hand. “I’ve -just been sellin’ him anither dizzen.” - -“Dearie me! he _must_ be a reporter on yin of the papers.” - -“He’s a whale for pencils, whatever he is,” Christina returned, -putting straight the piles of periodicals that adorned the counter. “I -doobt he wud need to report wi’ his feet forbye his han’s to get -through a dizzen pencils in three days. It’s a bit o’ a mystery aboot -the pencils.” - -“A mystery!” exclaimed M. Tod, who was just about to blow into a -glove. - -Christina picked the neglected penny from the counter and dropped it -into the till. “It’s a case o’ _cherchez la femme_,” she said softly, -with quite a passable accent. - -“What’s that?” murmured M. Tod. - -“French,” sighed Christina, making a jotting of her last sales, and -taking a long time to do it. - -M. Tod stared for a moment or two, shook her head, drew a long breath, -and with the same inflated her glove. - - - - -CHAPTER SEVEN - - -Macgregor was half-way home ere he comprehended the cause of the dull -ache about his temples. He eased his hat and obtained relief. But -there was no lid to lift from his mind which seemed to be overcrowded -with a jumble of ideas――old ideas turned topsy-turvy, some damaged, -some twisted, and new ideas struggling, as it were, for existence. -Moral earthquakes are not infrequent during our ’teens and twenties; -by their convulsions they provide construction material for character; -but the material is mixed, and we are left to choose whether we shall -erect sturdy towers or jerry-buildings. - - * * * * * - -The boy was not, of course, aware that here was a crisis in his life. -He was staggered and disturbed, just as he would have been had the -smooth, broad street on which he walked suddenly become a narrow pass -beset with rifts and boulders. The upheaval of his preconceived -notions of girlhood had been sharp indeed. He had never heard a girl -speak as Christina had spoken; it had never occurred to him that a -girl could speak so. But while he felt hurt and vexed, he harboured no -resentment; her frank friendliness had disposed of that; and while he -was humbled, he was not――thanks to his modesty, or, if you prefer it, -lack of cocksureness――grievously humiliated. It is not in the nature -of healthy youth to let misery have all its own way. - -Before he reached home he was able to extract several sips of comfort -from his recent experience. He knew her name and she knew his; they -had discovered a mutual acquaintance (how we love those mutual -acquaintances――sometimes!); they had shaken hands twice. - -He spent the evening indoors――he might have done otherwise had not -Christina said something about being busy on Saturday nights. He was -patient with his little brother, almost tender towards his sister. He -played several games of draughts with his father, wondering between -his deplorable moves when he should see Christina again. He spoke in a -subdued fashion. And about nine o’clock his mother anxiously asked him -whether he was feeling quite well, and offered to prepare a homely -potion. One regrets to record that he returned a rough answer and went -off to bed, leaving Lizzie to shake her head more in sorrow than in -anger while she informed John that she doubted Macgregor was -“sickenin’ for something.” As Macgregor had not condescended to play -draughts for at least two years, John was inclined to share her fears; -it did not occur to him to put down such conduct to feminine -influence; and an hour later, at her suggestion, he went to his son’s -room and softly opened the door. - -“Oh! ye’re no’ in yer bed yet, Macgreegor?” - -“I’m jist gaun.” - -“What are ye workin’ at?” - -“Jist sharpenin’ a pencil. I’ll no’ be lang”――impatiently. - -“Are ye feelin’ weel enough?” - -“I’m fine. Dinna fash yersel’.” - -John withdrew and reported to Lizzie. She was not satisfied, and -before going to bed, about eleven o’clock, she listened at Macgregor’s -door. All she heard was: “Here, Jimsie, I wish to peace ye wud keep -yer feet to yersel’.” - -She opened the door. “Laddie, are ye no’ sleepin’ yet?” - -“Hoo can I sleep wi’ Jimsie jabbin’ his feet in ma back?” - -She entered, and going to the bed removed the unconscious Jimsie to -his own portion thereof, at the same time urging him into a more -comfortable position. Then she came round and laid her hand on her -first-born’s brow. - -“Are ye sure ye’re a’ richt, laddie?” - -“Ay, I’m fine. I wish ye wudna fash,” he said shortly, turning over. - -Lizzie went out, closing the door gently. On the kitchen dresser she -set out the medicine bottle and spoon against emergencies. - -Perhaps there is a mansion in Heaven that will always be empty――a -mansion waiting to receive those who in their youth never snubbed -their anxious parents. Ere the door closed Macgregor was pricked with -compunction. He was sensitive enough for that. But it is the sensitive -people who hurt the people they care for. - -In extenuation let it be said at once that the boy was enduring a dire -reaction. It now appeared that Christina’s friendliness had been all -in the way of business. Socially (he did not think the word, of -course) Christina was beyond him. Christina, for all he knew, sat at -night in a parlour, had an aunt that kept a servant (and, maybe, a -gramaphone), was accustomed to young men in high collars and trousers -that always looked new. Yes, she had shaken hands with him simply in -order to get him to come back and buy another dozen of pencils. - -He was very unhappy. He tossed from side to side until the voice of -Jimsie, drowsy and peevish, declared that he had taken all the -clothes. Which was practically true, though he did not admit it as he -disentangled himself of the blankets and flung them all at his -brother. He did not care if he froze――until he began to feel a little -cold, when he rescued with difficulty a portion of the coverings from -Jimsie’s greedy clutch. He would not go to the shop again. But he -would pass it as often as possible. He would get Willie Thomson to -accompany him, and they would smoke cigarettes, and they would stop at -the door when a customer was entering, and laugh very loudly. He would -save up and take Jessie Mary to the dance――at least, he would think -about it. After all, it might be more effective to go to the shop and -buy more presents for Jessie Mary and――oh, great idea!――request with -great unconcern that they should be sent to her address! - -The clock in the kitchen struck one. With any sympathy at all it would -have struck at least five. It was like telling a person in the throes -of toothache that the disease is not serious. By the way, one wonders -if doctors will ever know as much about disease as patients know about -pain. Speculation apart, it is a sorry business to flatter ourselves -we have been suffering all night only to find that the night is but -beginning. Still, there must have, been something far wrong with the -Robinsons’ kitchen clock. Macgregor waited, but to his knowledge it -never struck two. Indeed, it missed all the hours until nine. - -Macgregor, however, presented himself in good time for the Sunday -breakfast. His punctuality was too much for his mother, and she -insisted on his taking a dose from the bottle on the dresser. Even -youth is sometimes too tired to argue. “Onything for peace,” was his -ungracious remark as he raised the spoon to his lips. - - * * * * * - -Scotland in its harshest, bleakest period of religious observance -could not have provided a more dismal Sabbath than Macgregor provided -for himself. Although his mother gave him the option of staying at -home, he accompanied his parents to church; although he came back with -a good appetite, he refused to let himself enjoy his dinner; although -he desired to take the accustomed Sunday afternoon walk with his -father down to the docks (they had gone there, weather permitting, for -years), he shut himself up in the solitude of his bedroom. - -He spent most of the afternoon in putting points to his stock of -pencils. How the operation should have occupied so much time may be -explained by the fact that the lead almost invariably parted from the -wood ere a perfect point was attained. Indeed, when the task was -ended, he had comparatively little to show for his threepence save a -heap of shavings, fragments and dust. His resentment, however, was all -against M. Tod; he wished she had been of his own sex and size. He -also wished she had kept an ice-cream shop, open on Sundays.――No, he -didn’t! Christina wouldn’t like working on Sundays; besides, an awful -lot of chaps hung about ice-cream shops. He wondered what church -Christina attended. If he only knew, he might go there in the evening. -(What our churches owe to young womanhood will never be known.) But -there were scores of churches in Glasgow. It would take years to get -round them――and in the end she might sit in the gallery and he under -it. In the unlikely event of his again entering Miss Tod’s shop, there -would be no harm in asking Christina about her church and whether she -sang in the choir. But stop! if she didn’t sing in the choir, she -might think he was chaffing her. That wouldn’t do at all. Better just -find out about the church, and if he didn’t get a view of her on his -first visit he could try again. - -There appears no reason why Macgregor’s spirits should have gradually -risen throughout these and other equally rambling reflections; but the -fact remains that they did so. By tea-time he was in a comely -condition of mind. He made young Jimsie happy with the cake of rubber -and presented Jeannie surreptitiously with a penny, “to buy sweeties.” -He seemed interested in his father’s account of a vessel that had been -in collision the previous day. He did not scowl when his mother -expressed satisfaction with the way in which he was punishing the -bread and butter, and openly congratulated herself on having -administered the physic just in time. Nay, more; he offered to stay in -the house with Jimsie while John and Lizzie took an evening stroll and -Jeannie went with a friend to evening service. No people are quite so -easily made happy as parents, and when, out-of-doors, John suggested -that Macgregor’s weekly allowance should be raised to one shilling, -Lizzie actually met him half-way by promising to make it ninepence in -future. - -During their absence Macgregor did his utmost to amuse Jimsie, who was -suffering from an incipient cold, but shortly after their return he -became restless, and ere long announced (rather indistinctly) his -intention of going out for “twa-three” minutes. - -Lizzie was about to ask “where?” when John remarked that it was a fine -night and that he would come too. Thus was frustrated Macgregor’s -desire to take one look at the shuttered shrine with “M. Tod” over the -portal――a very foolish sort of desire, as many of us know――from -experience. - -In the circumstances Macgregor accepted his father’s company with a -fairly good grace, merely submitting that the walk should be a short -one. - -On the way home, at a corner, under a lamp, they came upon Willie -Thomson in earnest and apparently amicable conversation with Jessie -Mary. Such friendliness struck Macgregor as peculiar, for since the -days of their childhood the twain had openly expressed contempt and -dislike for each other, and he wondered what was “up,” especially when -the sight of him appeared to cause Willie, at least, considerable -embarrassment. But presently the happy idea flashed upon him that -Willie had suddenly become “sweet” on Jessie Mary, and would -accordingly need to be dodged no longer. He felt more friendly towards -Willie than for some time past. His feelings with regard to Jessie -Mary were less definite, but he was sure his face had not got “extra -red” under her somewhat mocking glance. - -“Ye’re no’ as thick wi’ Wullie as ye used to be,” his father remarked. - -“Oh, we’ve nae quarrel,” he returned. “What did ye say was the name o’ -that damaged boat ye saw the day?” - - * * * * * - -He went to bed not unhappy. He would find a way of knowing Christina -better and proving to her that the painting trade was as good as any. - - - - -CHAPTER EIGHT - - -“Ye’ve been in business a long time, Miss Tod,” said Christina on -Monday afternoon, looking up from the front advertising page of a -newspaper; “so I wish ye wud tell me yer honest opinion o’ business in -general.” - -M. Tod paused in the act of polishing a fancy ink-pot (she had spasms -of industry for which there was no need) and stared in bewildered -fashion at her assistant. “Dearie me, lassie!” she exclaimed, “ye say -the queerest things! Ma honest opinion o’ business? I’m sure I never -thought aboot――――” - -“I’ll put it anither way. Supposin’ ye was back at the schule, an’ ye -was asked to define business――ye ken what define means――what wud be -yer answer?” - -“Is it fun ye’re after?” M. Tod enquired, a trifle suspiciously. - -“I was never mair serious in ma life,” Christina returned rather -indignantly. - -“I didna mean to offend ye,” the other said gently. “But ye ken fine -what business is――whiles I think ye ken better nor me, though I’ve -been at it for near six-an’-thirty years.” - -“I’m not offended,” said Christina, dropping the vernacular for the -moment. “And I merely desired to know if your definition of business -was the same as mine.” - -It always made M. Tod a little nervous when her assistant addressed -her in such correct speech. “Business,” she began, and halted. She set -the ink-pot on the counter, and tried to put the duster in her pocket. - -“A few words will suffice,” the girl remarked encouragingly, and took -charge of the duster. - -“Business,” resumed the old woman, and quite unconsciously put her -hands behind her back, “business is jist buyin’ and sellin’.” And she -gave a little smile of relief and satisfaction. - -Christina shook her head. “I suppose that’s what they taught ye at the -schule――jist the same as they taught me. If it wasna for their fancy -departments, sich as physiology an’ Sweedish drill, the schules wud be -oot o’ date. ‘Jist buyin’ an’ sellin’!’――Oh, Christopher Columbus!” - -M. Tod was annoyed, partly, no doubt, at discovering her hands behind -her back, but ere she could express herself Christina added: - -“In _ma_ honest opinion business chiefly consists in folk coddin’ yin -anither.” - -M. Tod gasped. “Coddin’! D’ye mean deceivin’?” - -“Na; there’s a difference between coddin’ an’ deceivin’. Same sort o’ -difference as between war an’ murder. An’ they say that all’s fair in -love――I ha’e ma doobts aboot love――an’ war. Mind ye, I’m no’ sayin’ -onything against coddin’. We’re a’ in the same boat. Some cods wi’ -advertisin’――see daily papers; some cods wi’ talk; some cods wi’ -lookin’ solemn an’ smilin’ jist at the right times. But we’re a’ -coddin’, cod, cod, coddin’! But we’ll no’ admit it! An’ naebody wud -thank us if we did.” - -The old woman was almost angry. “I’m sure I never codded a customer in -ma life,” she cried. - -Christina regarded her very kindly for a second or two ere she -returned pleasantly: “I wudna say but what you’re an exception to the -rule, Miss Tod. But ye’re a rare exception. Even ma uncle――an’ he’s -the honestest man in the world――once codded me when I was assistin’ ma -aunt at Kilmabeg, afore she got married. Wi’ his talk an’ his smiles -he got me to buy things against ma better judgment――things I was sure -wud never sell. If he had been dumb an’ I had been blind, I would -never ha’e made the purchase. But I was young then. Of course _he_ -didna want to cod me; it was jist a habit he had got into wi’ bein’ in -business. But there’s nae doobt,” she went on calmly, ignoring M. -Tod’s obvious desire to get a word in, “there’s nae doobt that coddin’ -is yin o’ the secrets o’ success. When ye consider that half the trade -o’ the world consists in sellin’ things that folk dinna need an’ -whiles dinna want――――” - -“Whisht, lassie! Ye speak as if naebody had a conscience!” - -“I didna mean that,” was the mild reply. “It’s the only thing in this -world that’s no’ easy codded――though some folk seem to be able to do -the trick. For, of course, there’s a limit to coddin’ in -business――fair coddin’, I mean. But ye’ve taken ma remarks ower -seriously, Miss Tod.” - -“I never heard sich remarks in a’ ma days.” - -“I’m sorry I’ve annoyed ye.” - -“Ye ha’ena annoyed me, dearie. But I’m vexed to think ye’ve got sich -notions in yer young heid.” M. Tod sighed. - -Christina sighed also, a little impatiently, and picked up the fancy -ink-pot from the counter. “Hoo lang ha’e ye had this in the shop?” she -enquired carelessly. - -M. Tod shook her head. “Ten years, onyway. It wudna sell.” - -“It’s marked eighteenpence.” - -“Ay. But when I had a wee sale, five year back, I put it among a lot -of nick-nacks at threepence, an’ even then it wudna sell. It’s no’ -pretty.” - -“It’s ugly――but that’s nae reason for it no’ sellin’.” Christina -examined the glass carefully. “It’s no’ in bad condition,” she -observed. “Wud ye part wi’ it for ninepence?” - -“Ninepence! I’ll never get ninepence!” - -“Never say die till ye’re buried! Jist wait a minute.” Christina went -over to the desk and spent about five minutes there, while M. Tod -watched her with intermittent wags of her old head. - -The girl came back with a small oblong of white card. “Dinna touch it, -Miss Tod. The ink’s no’ dry,” she said warningly, and proceeded to -place the inkpot and card together in a prominent position on the -glass show-case that covered a part of the counter. “Noo, that’ll gi’e -it a chance. Instead o’ keepin’ it in a corner as if we were ashamed -o’ it, we’ll mak’ a feature o’ it for a week, an’ see what happens. -Ye’ll get yer ninepence yet.” - -Christina printed admirably, and her employer had no difficulty in -reading the card a yard away even without her glasses. It bore these -words: - - ANTIQUE - - NOVEL GIFT - - MERELY 9D. - -“If ye call a thing ‘antique,’” explained Christina, “folk forget its -ugliness. An’ the public likes a thing wi’ ‘novel’ on it, though they -wudna believe ye if ye said it was new. An’ as for ‘gift’――weel, that -adds to the inkpot’s chances o’ findin’ a customer. D’ye see?” - -“Ay,” said the old woman. “Ye’re a clever lassie, but I doobt ye’ll -never get ninepence.” - -“Gi’e me a week,” said Christina, “an’ if it doesna disappear in that -time, we’ll keep it till Christmas an’ reduce it to a shillin’. But I -think a week’ll suffice.” - -M. Tod hesitated ere she gently said: “But ye’ll no try to cod -onybody, dearie?” - -Christina waved her hand in the direction of the card. “I’ll leave the -public to cod itsel’,” she said. “Noo it’s time ye was gettin’ ready -for yer walk.” - - * * * * * - -It may have been that Christina, in the back of her mind, saw in -Macgregor a possible customer for the ugly inkpot. At any rate, she -was disappointed when the evening passed without his entering the -shop; she hoped she had not spoken too plainly to him on his last -visit――not but what he needed plain speaking. She was not to know -until later how Macgregor’s employer had unexpectedly decreed that he -should work overtime that night, nor how Macgregor had obeyed -joylessly despite the extra pay. - -He called the following evening――and found M. Tod alone at the receipt -of custom. He had yet to learn that on Tuesdays and Thursdays -Christina left business early in order to attend classes. He must have -looked foolish as he approached the counter, yet he had the presence -of mind to ask for a ha’penny evening paper. Fortune being -fickle――thank goodness!――does not confine her favour to the brave, and -on this occasion she had arranged that M. Tod should be sold out of -that particular evening paper. So Macgregor saved his money as well as -his self-respect. - -On the morrow M. Tod, who still clung to the belief that the young man -wrote for the papers, reported the incident to her assistant. Possibly -Christina could have given a better reason than this for her -subsequent uncertainty of temper, and doubtless it was mere -absent-mindedness that accounted for her leaving the sliding panel to -the window a few inches open after she had thrown it wide without any -apparent purpose. And it is highly probable that Macgregor would have -taken advantage of the aperture had he not been again working overtime -on that and on the two following nights. - -So it was not until Saturday afternoon that they met once more. -Macgregor held aloof from the shop until M. Tod appeared――of course -she was later than usual!――and, after an anxious gaze at the sky, -proceeded to toddle up the street. Then he approached the window. He -was feeling fairly hopeful. His increased allowance had come as a -pleasant surprise. Moreover, he had saved during the week fourpence in -car-money and had spent nothing. He had fifteenpence in his -pocket――wealth! - -As he halted at the window, the panel at the back was drawn tight with -an audible snap. For a moment he felt snubbed; then he assured himself -there was nothing extraordinary in the occurrence, and prepared to -enter the shop, reminding himself, firstly, that he was going to -purchase a penholder, secondly, that he was not going to lose his head -when the bell banged. - -Christina was perched at the desk writing with much diligence. She -laid down a pencil and slipped from her stool promptly but without -haste. - -“Good-afternoon, Mr. Robinson,” she said demurely. - -If anyone else in the world had called him “Mister Robinson” he would -have resented it as chaff, but now, though taken aback, he felt no -annoyance. - -“Ay, it’s a fine day,” he returned, rather irrelevantly, and suddenly -held out his hand. - -This was a little more than Christina had expected, but she gave him -hers with the least possible hesitation. For once in her life, -however, she was not ready with a remark. - -Macgregor having got her hand, let it go immediately, as though he -were doubtful as to the propriety of what he had done. - -“I’ve been workin’ late every day this week excep’ Tuesday,” he said. - -For an instant Christina looked pleased; then she calmly murmured: -“Oh, indeed.” - -“Ay, every day excep’ Tuesday, till nine o’clock,” he informed her, -with an effort. - -“Really!” - -He struggled against a curious feeling of mental suffocation, and -said: “I was in here on Tuesday nicht. I――I didna see ye.” - -“I attend a shorthand class on Tuesday nights.” - -“Oh!” He wanted very much to make her smile, so he said: “When I didna -see ye on Tuesday, I was afraid ye had got the sack.” - -Christina drew herself up. “What can I do for you to-day, Mr. -Robinson?” she enquired with stiff politeness. - -“I was jist jokin’,” he cried, dismayed; “I didna mean to offend ye.” - -Christina’s fingers played a soundless tune on the edge of the -counter; her eyes gazed over his head into space. She waited with an -air of weary patience. - -“I was wantin’ a pen――a penholder,” he said at last, in a hopeless -tone of voice. - -“Ha’penny or penny?” she asked without moving. - -“A penny yin, please,” he said humbly. - -She turned and twitched a card from its nail, and laid it before him. -“Kindly take your choice,” she said, and moved up the counter a yard -or so. She picked up a novelette and opened it. - -Macgregor examined and fingered the penholders for nearly a minute by -the clock ere he glanced at her. She appeared to be engrossed in the -novelette, but he was sure he had hurt her feelings. - -“I was jist jokin’,” he muttered. - -“Oh, you wanted a ha’penny one.” She twitched down another card of -penholders, laid it before him as if――so it seemed to him――he had been -dirt, and went back to her novelette. - -Had he been less in love he would surely have been angry then. Had she -seen his look she would certainly have been sorry. - -There was a long silence while his gaze wandered, while he wondered -what he could do to make amends. - -And lo! the ugly inkpot caught his eye. He read the accompanying card -several times; he fingered the money in his pocket; he told himself -insistently that ninepence was not worth considering. Once more he -glanced at the girl. She was frowning slightly over the page. Perhaps -she wanted him to go. - -“I’ll buy that, if ye like,” he said, pointing at the inkpot. - -“Eh?” cried Christina, and dropped the novelette. “Beg your pardon,” -she went on, recovering her dignity and moving leisurely towards him, -“but I did not quite catch what you observed.” She was pleased that -she had used the word “observed.” - -“I’ll buy that,” repeated Macgregor. “What’s it for?” - -“It’s for keeping ink in. It’s an inkpot. The price is ninepence.” - -“I can read,” said Macgregor, with perhaps his first essay in irony. - -Christina tilted her chin. “I presume you want it for a gift,” she -said haughtily. - -“Na; I’m gaun to pay for it.” - -“I meant to give away as a gift.” It was rather a stupid sentence, she -felt. If she had only remembered to use the word “bestow.” - -The boy’s clear eyes met hers for a second. - -“It holds a great deal of ink,” she said, possibly in reply to her -conscience. - -“I’ll buy a bottle o’ ink, too, if ye like,” he said recklessly, and -looked at her again. - -A flood of honest kindliness swamped the business instinct of -Christina. “I didna mean that!” she exclaimed, flopping into homely -speech; “an’ I wudna sell ye that rotten inkpot for a hundred pound!” - -It will be admitted that Macgregor’s amazement was natural in the -circumstances. Ere he recovered from it she was in fair control of -herself. - -“It’s as good as sold to the Rev. Mr. McTavish,” she explained. Her -sole foundation for the statement lay in the fact that the Rev. Mr. -McTavish was to call for a small parcel of stationery about six -o’clock. At the same time she remembered her duty to her employer. -“But we have other inkpots in profusion,” she declared. - -The limit of his endurance was reached. “Oh,” he stammered, “I wish ye -wudna speak to me like that.” - -“Like what?” - -“That fancy way――that genteel English.” - -The words might have angered her, but not the voice. She drew a quick -breath and said: - -“Are ye a frien’ or a customer?” - -“Ye――ye ken fine what I want to be,” he answered, sadly. - -Now she was sure that she liked him. - -“Well,” she said, slowly, “suppose ye buy a ha’penny penholder――jist -for the sake o’ appearances――an’ then”――quickly――“we’ll drop -business.” And she refused to sell him a penny one, and, indeed, -anything else in the shop that afternoon. - -It must be recorded, however, that an hour or so later she induced the -Rev. Mr. McTavish to buy the ugly inkpot. - -“It wasna easy,” she confessed afterwards to M. Tod, “an’ I doobt he -jist bought it to please me; but it’s awa’ at last, an’ ye’ll never -see it again――unless, maybe, at a jumble sale. He was real nice aboot -it, an’ gaed awa’ smilin’.” - -“I hope ye didna deceive the man,” said M. Tod, trying not to look -gratified. - -“I told him the solemn truth. I told him it was on ma conscience to -sell the inkpot afore anither day had dawned. It’s no’ every day it -pays ye to tell the truth, is it?” The last sentence was happily -inaudible to the old woman. - -“But, lassie, I never intended ye to feel ye had ta’en a vow to sell -the inkpot. I wud be unco vexed to think――――” - -Christina gave her employer’s shoulder a little kindly, reassuring -pat. “Na, na; ye needna fash yersel’ aboot that,” she said. Then, -moving away: “As a matter o’ fac’, I had compromised myself regardin’ -the inkpot in――in anither direction.” - -Which was all Greek to M. Tod. - - - - -CHAPTER NINE - - -For a fortnight it ran smoothly enough. There were, to be sure, -occasional ripples; little doubts, little fears, little jealousies; -but they passed as swiftly as they appeared. - -Macgregor, having no overtime those weeks, contrived to visit the shop -nightly, excepting Tuesdays and Thursdays, Christina’s class nights. -He paid his footing, so to speak, with the purchase of a ha’penny -evening paper――which he could not well take home since his father was -in the habit of making a similar purchase on the way from work. M. Tod -was rarely in evidence; the evenings found her tired, and unless -several customers demanded attention at once (a rare event) she -remained in the living-room, browsing on novelettes selected for her -by her assistant. She was given to protesting she had never done such -a thing prior to Christina’s advent, to which Christina was wont to -reply that, while she herself was long since “fed up” with such -literature, it was high time M. Tod should know something about it. -Only once did the old woman intrude on the young people and prevent -intimate converse; but even then Macgregor did not depart unhappy, for -Christina’s farewell smile was reassuring in its whimsicality, and in -young love of all things seeing is believing. - -It must not be supposed, all the same, that she gave him much direct -encouragement; her lapses from absolute discretion were brief as they -were rare. But the affections of the youthful male have a wonderful -way of subsisting on crumbs which hope magnifies into loaves. -Nevertheless, her kindliness was a definite thing, and under its -influence the boy lost some of his shyness and gained a little -confidence in himself. He had already taken a leap over one barrier of -formality: he had called her “Christina” to her face, and neither her -face nor her lips had reproved him; he had asked her to call him -“Macgreegor”――or “Mac” if she preferred it, and she had promised to -“see about it.” - -On this November Saturday afternoon he was on his way to make the -tremendous request that she should allow him to walk home with her -when her day’s work was over. He was far from sure of himself. In the -reign of Jessie Mary――what an old story now!――he would not have openly -craved permission, but would have hung about on the chance of meeting -her alone and in pleasant humour. But he could not act so with -Christina. Instinct as well as inclination prevented him. Moreover, he -had been witness, on a certain evening when he had lingered near the -shop――just to see her with her hat on――-of the fate that befell a -young man (a regular customer, too, Christina told him afterwards) who -dared to proffer his escort off-hand. Christina had simply halted, -turned and pointed, as one might point for a dog’s guidance, and after -a long moment the young man had gone in the direction opposite to that -in which he had intended. To Macgregor the little scene had been -gratifying yet disturbing. The memory of it chilled his courage now. -But he was not the boy to relinquish a desire simply because he was -afraid. - -He broke his journey at a sweet-shop, and rather surprised himself by -spending sixpence, although he had been planning to do so for the past -week. He had not yet given Christina anything; he wanted badly to give -her something; and having bought it, he wondered whether she would -take it. He could not hope that the gift would affect the answer to -his tremendous request. - -Coming out of the sweet-shop he caught sight of the back of Willie -Thomson, whom he had not seen for two weeks. Involuntarily he gave the -boyish whistle, not so long ago the summons that would have called the -one to the other with express speed. Now it had the reverse effect, -for Willie started, half turned, and then walked quickly up a -convenient side-street. The flight was obvious, and for a moment -Macgregor was hurt and angry. Then with sudden sympathy he grinned, -thinking, “He’ll be after Jessie Mary, an’ doesna want me.” He was -becoming quite grateful to Willie, for although he had encountered -Jessie Mary several times of late, she had not reminded him of the -approaching dance, and he gave Willie credit for that. - -A few minutes later Macgregor stood at the counter that had become a -veritable altar. Not many of us manage to greet the girls of our -dreams precisely as we would or exactly as we have rehearsed the -operation, and Macgregor’s nerves at the last moment played him a -trick. - -In a cocky fashion, neither natural nor becoming, he wagged his head -in the direction of the living-room and flippantly enquired: “Is she -oot?” - -To which Christina, her smile of welcome passing with never a flicker, -stiffly replied: “Miss Tod is out, but may return at any moment.” - -“Aw!” he murmured, “I thought she wud maybe be takin’ her usual walk.” - -“What usual walk?” - -His hurt look said: “What have I done to deserve this, Christina?” - -And she felt as though she had struck him. “Ye shouldna tak’ things -for granted,” she said, less sharply. “I didna think ye was yin o’ the -cheeky sort.” - -“Me!” he cried in consternation. - -“Weel, maybe ye didna mean it, but ye cam’ into the shop like a dog -wi’ twa tails. But”――as with a sudden inspiration――“maybe ye’ve been -gettin’ a rise in yer wages. If that’s the case, I’ll apologise.” - -He shook his head. “I dinna ken what ye’re drivin’ at. I――I was jist -gled to see ye――――” - -“Oh, we’ll no’ say ony mair aboot it. Maybe I was ower smart,” she -said hastily. “Kindly forget ma observations.” She smiled -apologetically. - -“Are ye no’ gaun to shake han’s wi’ me?” he asked, still uneasy. - -“Surely!” she answered warmly. “An’ I’ve got a bit o’ news for ye, -Mac.” The name slipped out; she reddened. - -Yet her cheek was pale compared with the boy’s. “Oh!” he exclaimed -under his breath. Then with a brave attempt at carelessness he brought -from his pocket a small white package and laid it on the counter -before her. “It――it’s for you,” he said, forgetting his little speech -about wanting to give her something and hoping she would not be -offended. - -Christina was not prepared for such a happening; still, her wits did -not desert her. She liked sweets, but on no account was she going to -have her acceptance of the gift misconstrued. She glanced at -Macgregor, whose eyes did not meet hers; she glanced at the package; -she glanced once more at Macgregor, and gently uttered the solitary -word: - -“Platonic?” - -“Na,” he replied. “Jujubes.” - -Christina bit her lip. - -“D’ye no’ like them?” he asked anxiously. - -The matter had got beyond her. She put out her hand and took the gift, -saying: “Thank ye, Mac; they’re ma favourite sweeties. But――ye’re no’ -to dae it again.” - -“What kin’ o’ sweeties did ye think they was?” he asked, breaking a -short silence. - -“Oh, it’s o’ nae consequence,” she lightly replied. “D’ye no’ want to -hear ma bit o’ news?” - -“’Deed, ay, Christina.” Now more at ease, he settled himself on the -chair by the counter. - -“Weel,――ye’ll excuse me no’ samplin’ the jujubes the noo; it micht be -awkward if a customer was comin’――weel, yer Uncle Purdie was visitin’ -ma uncle last night, an’ what d’ye think I did?” - -“What?” - -“I asked him for a job!” - -“A job!” exclaimed Macgregor. “In――in yin o’ his shops?” - -“Na; in his chief office.” - -“My! ye’ve a neck――I mean, ye’re no’ afraid.” - -“Ye dinna get muckle in this world wi’oot askin’ for it.” - -“What did he say?” the boy enquired, after a pause. - -“He said the job was mine as sune as I was ready to tak’ it. Ye see, I -tell’t him I didna want to start till I had ma shorthand an’ -typewritin’ perfec’. That’ll tak’ me a few months yet.” - -“I didna ken ye could typewrite.” - -“Oh, I’ve been workin’ at it for near a year, but I can only get -practisin’ afore breakfast an’ whiles in the evenin’. Still, I think -I’ll be ready for the office aboot the spring, if no’ earlier.” - -Macgregor regarded her with sorrow mingled with admiration. “But what -way dae ye want to leave here?” he cried, all at once realising what -the change would mean to him. - -“There’s nae prospects in a wee place like this. Once I’m in a big -place, like yer uncle’s, I’ll get chances. I want to be yer uncle’s -private secretary――――” - -“Ye’re ower young.” - -“I didna say in six months.” Her voice changed. “Are ye no’ pleased, -Mac?” - -“Hoo can I be pleased when ye’re leavin’ here? Can ye no’ stop? Ye’re -fine where ye are. An’ what’ll Miss Tod dae wantin’ ye?” - -“I’ll get uncle to find her another girl――a pretty girl, so that ye’ll -come here for yer stationery, eh?” - -“If ye leave, I’ll never come here again. Could ye no’ get a job -behind the counter in yin of ma uncle’s shops?”――clutching at a straw. - -“I’ll gang furder in the office. If I was a man I daresay I wud try -the shop. If I was you, Mac, I wud try it.” - -“I couldna sell folk things.” - -“In a big business like yer uncle’s there’s plenty work besides -sellin’. But I suppose ye’ll stick to the pentin’.” - -“Ay,” he said shortly. - -“Weel, I suppose it’s nane o’ ma business,” she said good-humouredly. -“But, bein’ a frien’, I thought ye wud ha’e been pleased to hear ma -news.” - -Ere he could reply a woman came in to purchase note-paper. Possibly -Christina’s service was a trifle less “finished” than usual; and she -made no attempt to sell anything that was not wanted. Macgregor had a -few minutes for reflection, and when the customer had gone he said, a -shade more hopefully: - -“Ye’ll no’ be kep’ as late at the office as here. Ye’ll ha’e yer -evenin’s free, Christina.” - -“I’ll ha’e mair time for classes. I’m keen on learnin’ French an’ -German. I ken a bit o’ French already; a frien’ o’ ma uncle’s, a -Frenchman, has been gi’ein’ me lessons in conversation every Sunday -night for a while back. It’ll be useful if I become a secretary.” - -“Strikes me,” said Macgregor, gloomily, “ye’ve never ony time for -fun.” - -“Fun?” - -“For walkin’ aboot an’――an’ that.” - -“Oh, ye mean oot there.” She swung her hand in the direction of the -street. “I walk here in the mornin’――near a mile――an’ hame at night; -an’ I’ve two hours free in the middle o’ the day――uncle bargained for -that when he let me come to Miss Tod. As for loafin’ aboot on the -street, I had plenty o’ the street when I was young, afore ma aunt -took me to bide wi’ her at Kilmabeg. The street was aboot the only -place I had then, an’ I suppose I wud be there yet if ma aunt hadna -saved me. D’ye ken, Mac,” she went on almost passionately, “it’s no’ -five years since I wanted a decent pair o’ shoes an’ a guid square -meal.... Oh, I could tell ye things――but anither time, maybe. As for -spendin’ a’ yer spare time on the street, when ye’ve ony other place -to spend it, it’s――weel, I suppose it’s a matter o’ taste; but if I -can dae onything wi’ ma spare time that’ll mak’ me independent later -on, I’m gaun to dae it. That’s flat!” Suddenly she laughed. “Are ye -afraid o’ me, Mac?” - -“No’ likely!” he replied, with rather feeble indignation. “But whiles -ye’re awfu’――queer.” - -At that she laughed again. “But I’m no’ so badly off for fun, as ye -call it, either,” she resumed presently. “Noo an’ then uncle tak’s -auntie an’ me to the theatre. Every holiday we gang to the coast. An’ -there’s always folk comin’ to the hoose――――” - -“Auld folk?” - -“Frae your age upwards. An’ next year, when I put up ma hair, I’ll be -gettin’ to dances. Can ye waltz?” - -Macgregor gave his head a dismal shake. “I――I doobt ye’re ower -high-class,” he muttered hopelessly. “Ye’ll no’ be for lookin’ at me -next year.” - -“No’ if ye wear a face like a fiddle. I like to look at cheery things. -What’s up wi’ ye?” - -“Oh, naething. I suppose ye expec’ to be terrible rich some day.” - -“That’s the idea.” - -“What’ll ye dae wi’ the money? I suppose ye dinna ken.” - -“Oh, I ken fine,” she returned, with an eager smile. “I’ll buy auntie -a lovely cottage at the coast, an’ uncle a splendid motor car, an’ -masel’ a big white steam yacht.” - -“Ye’re no’ greedy,” he remarked a little sulkily. - -“That’ll be merely for a start, of course. I’ll tak’ ye a trip roun’ -the world for the price o’ a coat o’ pent to the yacht. Are ye on? -Maybe ye’ll be a master-penter by then.” - -“I――I’ll never be onything――an’ I’m no’ carin’,” he groaned. - -“If ye lie doon in the road ye’ll no’ win far, an’ ye’re likely to get -tramped on, forbye. What’s wrang wi’ ye the day?” she asked kindly. - -“Ye――ye jist mak’ me miserable,” he blurted out, and hung his head. - -“Me!” she said innocently. “I’m sure I never meant to dae that. I’m a -hard nut, I suppose; but no’ jist as hard as I seem. Onything I can -dae to mak’ ye happy again?” - -The door opened, the bell banged, and a man came in and bought a -weekly paper. - -“Weel?” said Christina when they were alone. - -“Let me walk hame wi’ ye the nicht,” said Macgregor, who ought to have -felt grateful to the chance customer whose brief stay had permitted -him to get his wits and words together. - -“Oh!” said Christina. - -“I’ll wait for ye as long as ye like.” - -Some seconds passed ere Christina spoke. “I’m not in the habit of -being escorted――――” she began. - -“For ony sake dinna speak like that.” - -“I forgot ye wasna a customer. But, seriously, I dinna think it wud be -the thing.” - -“What way, Christina?” - -“Jist because, an’ for several other reasons besides. My! it’s gettin’ -dark. Time I was lightin’ up.” She struck a match, applied it to a -long taper, and proceeded to ignite the jets in the window and above -the counter. Then she turned to him again. - -“Mac.” - -Something in her voice roused him out of his despair. “What, -Christina?” - -“If ye walk hame wi’ me, I’ll expect ye to come up an’ see ma aunt an’ -uncle. Ye see, I made a sort o’ bargain wi’ them that I wudna ha’e ony -frien’s that they didna ken aboot.” - -Macgregor’s expression of happiness gave place to one of doubt. “Maybe -they wudna like me,” he said. - -“Aweel, that’s your risk, of course. But they’ll no’ bite ye. I leave -the shop at eight.” She glanced at her little silver watch. “Mercy! -It’s time I was puttin’ on the kettle. Miss Tod’ll be back in a jiffy. -Ye best gang, Mac.” - -“I’ll be waitin’ for ye at eight,” he said, rising. “An’ it’s awfu’ -guid o’ ye, Christina, though I wish ye hadna made that bargain――――” - -“Weel, I like to be as honest as I can――ootside o’ business. If ye -dinna turn up, I’ll forgive ye. Noo――――” - -“Oh, I’ll turn up. It wud tak’ mair nor your aunt an’ uncle――――” - -“Tits, man!” she cried impatiently, “I’ll be late wi’ her tea. Adieu -for the present.” She waved her hand and fled to the living-room. - -Macgregor went home happy in a subdued fashion. He found a letter -awaiting him. It was from Grandfather Purdie; it reminded him that his -seventeenth birthday was on the coming Monday, contained a few kindly -words of advice, and enclosed a postal order for ten shillings. -Hitherto the old man’s gift had been a half-crown, which had seemed a -large sum to the boy. But ten shillings!――it would be hard to tell -whether Macgregor’s feeling of manliness or of gratitude was the -greater. - -Mrs. Robinson was not a little disturbed when her son failed to hand -over the money to her to take care of for him, as had been the custom -in the past, and her husband had some difficulty in persuading her to -“let the laddie be in the meantime.” - -Macgregor had gone to his room to make the most elaborate toilet -possible. - -“You trust him, an’ he’ll trust you,” said John. “Dinna be aye -treatin’ him like a wean.” - -“It’s no’ a case o’ no’ trustin’ him,” she returned a little sharply. -“Better treat him like a wean than let him think he’s a man afore his -time.” - -“It’s no’ his money in the bank that tells what a chap’s made o’, -Lizzie. Let us wait an’ see what he does wi’ it. Mind ye, it’s his to -dae what he likes wi’. Wait, till the morn, an’ then I’ll back ye up -in gettin’ him to put a guid part o’ it, onyway, in the bank. No’ that -I think ony backin’ up’ll be necessary. If he doesna want to put it in -the bank, he’ll dae it to please us. I’ll guarantee that, wife.” - -“If I had your heart an’ you had ma heid,” she said with a faint -smile, “I daresay we wud baith be near perfec’, John. Aweel, I’m no’ -gaun to bother the laddie noo. But”――seriously――“he’s been oot an -awfu’ lot at nicht the last week or twa.” - -“Courtin’,” said John, laughing. - -“Havers!” she retorted. “He’s no’ the sort.” - -“Neither was I,” said John, “an’ look at me noo!” - -And there they let the subject drop. - - * * * * * - -At seven o’clock Macgregor left the house. At the nearest post-office -he had his order converted into coin. In one of his pockets he placed -a couple of shillings――for Jeannie and Jimsie. He had no definite -plans regarding the balance, but he hoped his mother would not ask for -it. Somehow its possession rendered the prospect of his meeting with -the Baldwins a thought less fearsome. He would tell Christina of his -grandfather’s gift, and later on, perhaps, he would buy――he knew not -what. All at once he wished he had a _great_ deal of money――wished he -were clever――wished he could talk like Christina, even in the manner -he hated――wished vague but beautiful things. The secret aspirations of -lad’s love must surely make the angels smile――very tenderly. - -He reached the trysting place with a quick heart, a moist brow, and -five and twenty minutes to spare. - - - - -CHAPTER TEN - - -From five to seven o’clock on Saturdays M. Tod and her assistant did a -fairly brisk trade in newspapers; thereafter, as Christina often -thought, but refrained from saying, it was scarcely worth while -keeping the shop open: A stray customer or two was all that might be -expected during the last hour, and Christina was wont to occupy -herself and it by tidying up for Sunday, while M. Tod from the -sitting-room bleated her conviction, based on nothing but a fair -imagination and a bad memory, that the Saturday night business was not -what it had been twenty years ago. The old woman invariably got -depressed at the end of the week; she had come to grudge the girl’s -absence even for a day. - -Christina was counting up some unsold periodicals, chattering -cheerfully the while on the ethics of modern light literature. The -door opened with a suddenness that suggested a pounce, and a young -woman, whom Christina could not recollect having seen before, started -visibly at the bang of the bell, recovered herself, and closed the -door carefully. It was Christina’s habit to sum up roughly the more -patent characteristics of new customers almost before they reached the -counter. In the present case her estimate was as follows: “Handsome -for the money; conceited, but not proud.” - -“Good-evening,” she said politely. - -“Evenin’,” replied the other, her dark eyes making a swift survey of -the shop. She threw open her jacket, already unbuttoned, disclosing a -fresh white shirt, a scarlet bow and a silver belt. Touching the belt, -she said: “I think this was got in your shop.” - -Christina bent forward a little way. “Perhaps,” she said pleasantly. -“I couldn’t say for certain. We’ve sold several of these belts, but of -course we haven’t the monopoly.” - -It may have been that the young woman fancied she was being chaffed. -Other customers less unfamiliar with Christina had fancied the same -thing. At all events her tone sharpened. - -“But I happen to ken it was got here.” - -“Then it _was_ got here,” said Christina equably. “Do you wish to buy -another the same? I’m sorry we’re out of them at present, but we could -procure one for you within――――” - -“No, thanks. An’ I didna buy this one, either. It was bought by a -young gentleman friend of mines.” - -“Oh, indeed!” Christina murmured sympathetically. Then her eyes -narrowed slightly. - -“I came to see if you could change it,” the young woman proceeded. -“It’s miles too wide. Ye can see that for yersel’.” - -“They are worn that way at present,” said Christina, with something of -an effort. - -“Maybe. But I prefer it tight-fittin’. Of course I admit I’ve an extra -sma’ waist.” - -“Yes――smaller than they are worn at present.” - -“I beg your pardon!” - -“Granted,” said Christina absently. She was trying to think of more -than one male customer to whom she had sold a belt. But there had been -only one. - -The dark eyes of the young woman glimmered with malignant relish. - -“As I was sayin’,” she said, “I prefer it tight-fittin’. I’ve a dance -on next week, an’ as it is the belt is unsuitable, an’ the young man -expec’s me to wear it. Of course I couldna tell him that it didna fit -me. So I thought I would jist ask ye to change it wi’oot lettin’ on to -him.” She gave a self-conscious giggle. - -“I see,” said Christina, dully. “But I’m afraid there’s only the one -size in those belts, and, besides, we can’t change goods that have -been worn for a month.” - -“Oh, so ye mind when ye sold it!” said the other maliciously. “Ye’ve a -fine memory, Miss! But though I’ve had it for a month――it was part o’ -his birthday present, ye ken――I’ve scarcely worn it――only once or -twice, to please him.” - -There was a short silence ere Christina spoke. “If you are bent on -getting the belt made tight-fitting, a jeweller would do it for you, -but it would cost as much as the belt is worth,” she said coldly. -“It’s a very cheap imitation, you know,” she added, for the first time -in her business career decrying her own wares. - -It was certainly a nasty one, but the young woman almost succeeded in -appearing to ignore it. - -“So ye canna change it――even to please ma young man?” she said -mockingly. - -“No,” Christina replied, keeping her face to the foe, but with -difficulty. - -Said the foe: “That’s a pity, but I daresay I’ll get over it.” She -moved to the door and opened it. She smiled, showing her teeth. -(Christina was glad to see they were not quite perfect.) “A sma’ waist -like mines is whiles a misfortune,” she remarked, with affected -self-commiseration. - -Christina set her lips, but the retort _would_ come. “Ay,” she said -viciously; “still, I suppose you couldn’t grow tall any other way.” - -But the young woman only laughed――she could afford to laugh, having -done that which she had come to do――and departed to report the result -of her mission to the youth known as Willie Thomson. - -“Wha was that, dearie?” M. Tod called from the living-room. - -Christina started from an unlovely reverie. “Merely a female,” she -answered bitterly, and resumed counting the periodicals in a listless -fashion. - -The poison bit deep. The cheek of him to suggest walking home with -_her_ when he was going to a dance with that tight-laced girl next -week! No doubt he admired her skimpy waist. He was welcome to it and -her――and her bad teeth. And yet he had seemed a nice chap. She had -liked him for his shyness, if for nothing else. But the shy kind were -always the worst. He had very likely been taking advantage of his -shyness. Well, she was glad she had found him out before he could walk -home with her. And possibly because she was glad, but probably because -she was quite young at heart, tears came to her eyes.... - -When ten minutes had passed, M. Tod, missing the cheerful chatter, -toddled into the shop. - -“What’s wrang, dearie? Preserve us! Ha’e ye been cryin’?” - -“Cryin’!” exclaimed Christina with contempt. “But I think I’m in for a -shockin’ cauld in ma heid, so ye best keep awa’ frae me in case ye get -the infection. A cauld’s a serious thing at your time o’ life.” And -she got the feebly protesting old woman back to the fireside, and left -her there. - - * * * * * - -At eight o’clock Macgregor saw the window lights go out and the shop -lights grow dim. A minute later he heard an exchange of good-nights -and the closing and bolting of a door. Then Christina appeared, her -head a little higher even than usual. - -He went forward eagerly. He held out his hand and――it received his -gift of the afternoon unopened. - -“I’ve changed my mind. I’ll bid you good-night――and good-bye,” said -Christina, and walked on. - -Presently he overtook her. - -“Christina, what’s up?” - -“Kindly do not address me any more.” - -“Any more?――――Never?――――What way?――――” - -She was gone. - -He dashed the little package into the gutter and strode off in the -opposite direction, his face white, his lip quivering. - -If Macgregor seemed in the past to have needed a thorough rousing, he -had it now. For an hour he tramped the streets, his heart hot within -him, the burden of his thoughts――“She thinks I’m no’ guid enough.” - -And the end of the tramp found him at the door of the home of Jessie -Mary. For a wonder, on a Saturday night at that hour, she was in. She -opened the door herself. - -At the sight of the boy something like fear fell upon her. For what -had he come thus boldly? - -He did not keep her in suspense. “Will ye gang wi’ me to that dance ye -was talkin’ aboot?” he asked abruptly, adding, “I’ve got the money for -the tickets.” - -A curse, a blow even, would have surprised her less. - -“Will ye gang, Jessie?” he said impatiently. - -For the life of her she could not answer at once. - -Said he: “If it’s Wullie, ye’re thinkin’ o’, I’ll square him.” - -“Wullie!” she exclaimed, a cruel contempt in the word. - -“Weel, if naebody else is takin’ ye, will ye gang wi’ me?” - -“Dae――dae ye want me, Macgreegor?” - -“I’m askin’ ye.” - -She glanced at him furtively, but he was not looking at her; his hands -were in his pockets, his mouth was shaped to emit a tuneless whistle. -She tried to laugh, but made only a throaty sound. It seemed as if a -stranger stood before her, one of whom she knew nothing save his name. -And yet she liked that stranger and wanted much to go to the dance -with him. - -The whistling ceased. - -“Are ye gaun wi’ somebody else?” he demanded, lifting his face for a -moment. - -It was not difficult to guess that something acute had happened to him -very recently. Jessie Mary suddenly experienced a guilty pang. Yet why -Macgregor should have come back to her now was beyond her -comprehension. Yon yellow-haired girl in the shop could not have told -him anything――that was certain. And though she had not really wanted -him back, now that he had come she was fain to hold him once more. -Such thoughts made confusion in her mind, out of which two distinct, -ideas at last emerged: she did not care if she had hurt the -yellow-haired girl; she could not go to the dance on Macgregor’s -money. - -So gently, sadly, she told her lie; “Ay, there’s somebody else, -Macgreegor.” Which suggests that no waist is too small to contain an -appreciable amount of heart and conscience. - -A brief pause, and Macgregor said drearily: - -“Aweel, it doesna matter. I’ll awa’ hame.” And went languidly down the -stairs. - -“It doesna matter.” The words haunted Jessie Mary that night, and it -was days before she got wholly rid of the uncomfortable feeling that -Macgregor had not really wanted her to go to the dance, and that he -had, in fact, been “codding” her. - -Whereas, poor lad, he had only been “codding” himself, or, at least, -trying to do so. By the time he reached the bottom step he had -forgotten Jessie Mary. - - * * * * * - -Once more he tramped the streets. - -At home Lizzie was showing her anxiety, and John was concealing his. - -When, at long last, he entered the kitchen, he did not appear to hear -his mother’s “Whaur ha’e ye been, laddie?” or his father’s “Ye’re -late, ma son.” Their looks of concern at his tired face and muddy -boots passed unobserved. - -Having unlaced his boots and rid his feet of them more quietly than -usual, he got up and went to the table at which his mother was -sitting. - -He took all the money――all――from his pockets and laid it before her. - -“There’s a shillin’ each for Jeannie an’ Jimsie. I’m no’ needin’ the -rest. I’m wearied,” he said, and went straightway to his own room. - -John got up and joined his wife at the table. “Did I no’ tell ye,” he -cried, triumphantly, “that Macgreegor wud dae the richt thing?” - -Lizzie stared at the little heap of silver and bronze. - -“John,” she whispered at last, and there was a curious distressed note -in her voice, “John, d’ye no’ see?――he’s gi’ed me ower much!” - - - - -CHAPTER ELEVEN - - -As a rule tonics are bitter, and their effects very gradual, often so -gradual as to be hardly noticeable until one’s strength is put to some -test. While it would be unfair to deny the existence of “backbone” in -Macgregor, it is but just to grant that the “backbone” required -stiffening. And it is no discredit to Macgregor that the tincture of -Christina’s hardier spirit which, along with her (to him) abundant -sweetness, he had been absorbing during these past weeks, was the very -tonic he needed, the tonic without which he could not have acted as he -did on the Monday night following his dismissal. - -Of this action one may say, at first thought, that it was simply the -outcome of an outraged pride. Yet Macgregor’s pride was at best a -drowsy thing until a girl stabbed it. It forced him to Jessie Mary’s -door, but there failed him. Throughout the miserable Sunday it lay -inert, with only an occasional spasm. And though he went with it to -the encounter on Monday, he carried it as a burden. His real -supporters were Love and Determination, and the latter was a new -comrade, welcome, but not altogether of his own inspiring. - - * * * * * - -He did not go to the shop, for he had neither money nor the petty -courage necessary to ask it of his parents. On the pavement, a little -way from the door, he waited in a slow drizzle of rain. He had no -doubts as to what he was going to do and say. The idea had been with -him all day, from early in the morning, and it _had_ to be carried -out. Perhaps his nerves were a little too steady to be described as -normal. - -When eight o’clock struck on a neighbouring tower, he did not start or -stir. But across the street, peering round the edge of a close-mouth, -another boy jerked his head at the sound. Willie Thomson was -exceedingly curious to know whether Saturday night had seen the end of -the matter. - -Christina, for no reason that she could have given, was late in -leaving the shop; it was twenty minutes past the hour when she -appeared. - -She approached quickly, but he was ready for her. - -“No!” she exclaimed at the sight of him. - -He stepped right in front of her. She was compelled to halt, and she -had nothing to say. - -He faced her fairly, and said――neither hotly nor coldly, but with a -slight throb in his voice: - -“I’ll be guid enough yet.” With a little nod as if to emphasise his -words, and without taking his eyes from her face, he stood aside and -let her go. - -Erect, he followed her with his eyes until the darkness and traffic of -the pavement hid her. Then he seemed to relax, his shoulders drooped -slightly, and with eyes grown wistful he moved slowly down the street -towards home. Arrived there he shut himself up with an old school -dictionary. - -Dull work, but a beginning.... - -“Guid enough yet.” Christina had not gone far when through all her -resentment the full meaning of the words forced itself upon her. “Oh,” -she told herself crossly, “I never meant him to take it that way.” A -little later she told herself the same thing, but merely impatiently. -And still later, lying in the dark, she repeated it with a sob. - -As for the watcher, Willie Thomson, he set out without undue haste to -inform Jessie Mary that once more Macgregor had been left standing -alone on the pavement. Somehow Willie was not particularly pleased -with himself this evening. Ere his lagging feet had borne him half way -to the appointed place he was feeling sorry for Macgregor. All at once -he decided to spy no more. It would be rather awkward just at present -to intimate such a decision to Jessie Mary, but he could “cod” her, he -thought, without much difficulty, by inventing reports in the future. -Cheered by his virtuous resolutions, he quickened his pace. - -Jessie Mary received him in the close leading to her abode. She was in -an extraordinarily bad temper, and cut short his report almost at the -outset by demanding to know when he intended repaying the shilling he -had borrowed a fortnight previously. - -“Next week,” mumbled Willie, with that sad lack of originality -exhibited by nearly all harassed borrowers. - -Whereupon Jessie Mary, who was almost a head the taller, seized him by -one ear and soundly cuffed the other until with a yelp he broke loose -and fled into the night, never to know that he had been punished for -that unfortunate remark of Macgregor’s――“it doesna matter.” Yet let us -not scoff at Jessie Mary’s sense of justice. The possessors of greater -minds than hers, having stumbled against a chair, have risen in their -wrath and kicked the sofa――which is not at all to say that the sofa’s -past has been more blameless than the chair’s. Life has a way of -settling our accounts without much respect for our book-keeping. - -Jessie Mary felt none the better of her outbreak. She went to bed -wishing angrily that she had taken Macgregor at his word. The -prospects of obtaining an escort to the dance were now exceedingly -remote, for only that afternoon she had learned that the bandy-legged -young man in the warehouse whom she had deemed “safe at a pinch,” and -who was the owner of a dress suit with a white vest, had invited -another girl and was actually going to give her flowers to wear. - -Willie went to bed, too, earlier than usual, and lay awake wondering, -among other things, whether his aching ear entitled him to a little -further credit in the matter of his debt to Jessie Mary――not that any -length of credit would have made payment seem possible. For Willie was -up to the neck in debt, owing the appalling sum of five shillings and -ninepence to an old woman who sold newspapers, paraffin oil and cheap -cigarettes, and who was already threatening to go to his aunt for her -money――a proceeding which would certainly result in much misery for -Willie. He was “out of a job” again; but it isn’t easy to get work, -more especially when one prefers to do nothing. To some extent -Macgregor was to blame for his having got into debt with the -tobacconist, for if Macgregor had not stopped smoking, Willie would -not have needed to buy nearly so many cigarettes. Nevertheless, -Willie’s thoughts did not dwell long or bitterly on that point. Rather -did they dwell on Macgregor himself. And after a while Willie drew up -his legs and pulled the insufficient bedclothes over his head and lay -very still. This he had done since he was a small boy, when -lonesomeness got the better of him, when he wished he had a father and -mother like Macgregor’s. - -And, as has been hinted, neither was Christina at ease that night. - -Indeed, it were almost safe to say that of the four young people -involved in this little tragicomedy, Macgregor, yawning over his old -school dictionary, was the least unhappy. - - - - -CHAPTER TWELVE - - -On the fifth night, at the seventh page of words beginning with a “D,” -Macgregor closed the dictionary and asked himself what was the good of -it all. His face was hot, his whole being restless. He looked at his -watch――a quarter to eight. He got up and carefully placed the -dictionary under a copy of “Ivanhoe” on the chest of drawers. He would -go for a walk. - -He left the house quietly. - -In the kitchen Lizzie, pausing in her knitting, said to John: “That’s -Macgreegor awa’ oot.” - -“It’ll dae him nae harm,” said John. “He’s becomin’ a great reader, -Lizzie.” - -“I dinna see why he canna read ben here. It’s cauld in his room. -What’s he readin’?” - -“The book he got frae his Uncle Purdie three year back.” - -“Weel, I’m sure I’m gled if he’s takin’ an interest in it at last.” - -“Oh, ‘Ivanhoe’ ’s no’ a bad story,” remarked John. “Whiles it’s fair -excitin’.” - -Said Jimsie from the hearthrug: “He doesna seem to enjoy it much, -Paw.” - -“Weel, it’s no’ a funny book.” - -“It’s time ye was in yer bed, Jimsie,” said Mrs. Robinson. “It’s ower -late for ye.” - -“Aw, the wean’s fine,” said John. - -Jeannie laid down her sewing. “Come on, Jimsie, an’ I’ll tell ye a wee -story afore ye gang to sleep.” - -“Chaps ye!” Jimsie replied, getting up. - -When the two had gone, Lizzie observed casually: “It’s the first nicht -Macgreegor’s been oot this week.” - -“Weel, ye should be pleased, wumman.” John smiled. - -A pause. - -“I wonder what made him gi’e up a’ his siller on Seturday nicht.” - -“Same here. But I wudna ask him,” said John, becoming grave. “Wud -you?” - -She shook her head, “I tried to, on Sunday, but some way I coudna. -He’s changin’.” - -“He’s growin’ up, Lizzie.” - -“I suppose ye’re richt,” she said reluctantly, and resumed her -knitting. - - * * * * * - -From the darkest spot he could find on the opposite pavement Macgregor -saw Christina come out of the shop, pass under a lamp, and disappear. -He felt sorely depressed during the return journey. The dictionary had -failed to increase either his knowledge or his self-esteem. He -wondered whether History or Geography would do any good; there were -books on these subjects in the house. He realised that he knew nothing -about anything except his trade, and even there he had to admit that -he had learned less than he might have done. And yet he had always -wanted to be a painter. - -The same night he started reading the History of England, and found it -a considerable improvement on the Dictionary. He managed to keep awake -until the arrival of Julius Cæsar. Unfortunately he had taken the book -to bed, and his mother on discovering it in the morning indiscreetly -asked him what he had been doing with it. “Naething special,” was his -reply, indistinctly uttered, and here ended his historical studies, -though for days after Lizzie left the book prominent on the chest of -drawers. - - * * * * * - -The day being Saturday, the afternoon was his own. Through the rain he -made his way furtively to a free library, but became too -self-conscious at the door, and fled. For the sum of threepence a -picture house gave him harbourage, and save when the scenes were very -exciting he spent the time in trying not to wonder what Christina -would think of him, if she thought at all. He came forth ashamed and -in nowise cheered by the entertainment. - -In the evening he went once more to watch her leave the shop. M. Tod -came to the door with her, and they stood talking for a couple of -minutes, so that he had more than a glimpse of her. And a spirit arose -in him demanding that he should attempt something to prove himself, -were it only with his hands. It was not learning, but earning, that -would make him “guid enough yet”; not what he could say, but what he -could do. There would be time enough for speaking “genteel English” -and so on after――well, after he had got up in the world. - -For a moment he felt like running after Christina and making her -hearken to his new hope, but self-consciousness prevailed and sent him -homewards. - -“Hullo!” From a close came a husky voice, apologetic, appealing. - -“Hullo, Wullie!” Macgregor stopped. He was not sorry to meet Willie; -he craved companionship just then, though he had no confidence to -give. - -“Are ye for hame?” - -“Ay.” - -“I――I’ll come wi’ ye, if ye like, Macgreegor?” - -“Come on then.” - -Willie came out, and they proceeded along the street without remark -until Macgregor enquired―――― - -“Where are ye workin’ the noo, Wullie?” - -“I’m no’ workin’. Canna get a job. Dae ye ken o’ onything?” - -“Na. What kin’ o’ job dae ye want?” - -“Onything,” said Willie, and added quickly, “An’ I’ll stick to it this -time, if I get the chance.” - -After a short pause――――“My fayther got ye a job before,” said -Macgregor. - -“I ken. But I wud stick――――” - -“Honest?” - -Willie drew his hand across his throat. - -“Weel,” said Macgregor, “I’ll tell ma fayther, an’ ye can gang an’ see -him at the works on Monday.” - -“I’ll be there. Ye’re a dacent chap, Macgreegor.” - -Neither seemed to have anything more to say to the other, but their -parting was cordial enough. - -Next day, Sunday, was wet and stormy, and there was no afternoon -stroll of father and son to the docks. John was flattered by -Macgregor’s ill-concealed disappointment――it was like old times. -Perhaps he would not have been less flattered had he known his boy’s -desire to tell him out of doors a thing that somehow could not be -uttered in the house. Macgregor spent the afternoon in studying -secretly an old price-list of Purdie’s Stores. - -The following night, while returning from the errand of previous -nights, he again encountered Willie. - -“So may fayther’s gaun to gi’e ye a job. He tell’t me it was fixed.” - -“Ay,” said Willie, “but he canna tak’ me on for a fortnicht.” - -“Weel, that’s no lang to wait.” - -For a few seconds Willie was mute; then he blurted out――“I’m done -for!” - -“Done for!” exclaimed Macgregor, startled by the despair in the -other’s voice. “What’s wrang, Wullie?” - -“I’m in a mess. But it’s nae use tellin’ ye. Ye canna dae onything.” - -“Is’t horses?” Macgregor asked presently. - -“Naw, it’s no’ horses!” Willie indignantly replied. - -How virtuous we feel when accused of the one sin we have not -committed! - -The next moment he clutched Macgregor’s arm. “Come in here, an’ I’ll -tell ye.” He drew his companion into a close. “I――I couldna tell -onybody else.” - -From the somewhat incoherent recital which followed Macgregor finally -gathered that the old woman to whom Willie owed money had presented -her ultimatum. If Willie failed to pay up that night she would -assuredly not fail to apply to his aunt first thing in the morning. - -“Never heed, Wullie,” said Macgregor, taking his friend’s arm, and -leading him homewards. “Yer aunt’ll no’ kill ye.” - -“I wish to――――she wud!” muttered Willie with a vehemence that shocked -his friend. “She’s aye been ill to live wi’, but it’ll be a sight -harder noo.” - -“Wud the auld wife no’ believe ye aboot gettin’ a job in a fortnicht? -She wudna? Aweell, she’ll believe me. Come on, an’ I’ll speak to her -for ye.” - -But the “auld wife” was adamant. She had been deceived with too many -promises ere now. At last Macgregor, feeling himself beaten, -disconsolately joined Willie and set out for home. Neither spoke until -Macgregor’s abode was reached. Then Macgregor said: - -“Bide here till I come back,” and ran up the stair. He knew his father -was out, having gone back to the works to experiment with some new -machinery. He found his mother alone in the kitchen. - -“Mither,” he said with difficulty, “I wish ye wud gi’e me five -shillin’s o’ ma money.” - -He could not have startled her more thoroughly. - -“Five shillin’s, laddie! What for?” - -“I canna tell ye the noo.” - -“But――――” - -“It’s no’ for――for fun. If ye ask me, I’ll tell ye in a secret this -day fortnicht. Please, mither.” - -She got up and laid her hands on his shoulder and turned him to the -full light of the gas. He looked at her shyly, yet without flinching. -And abruptly she kissed him, and as abruptly passed to the dresser -drawer where she kept her purse. - -Without a word she put the money in his hand. Without a word he took -it, nodded gravely, and went out. In one way Lizzie had done more for -her boy in these three minutes than she had done in the last three -years. - -Macgregor had a sixpence in his pocket, and he added it to the larger -coins. - -“She can wait for her thruppence,” he said, giving the money to the -astounded Willie. “Awa’ an’ pay her. I’ll maybe see ye the morn’s -nicht. So long!” He walked off in the direction opposite to that which -Willie ought to take. - -But Willie ran after him; he was pretty nearly crying. “Macgreegor,” -he stammered, “I’ll pay ye back when I get ma first wages. An’ I’ll -no’ forget――oh, I’ll never forget. An’ I’ll dae ye a guid turn yet!” - -“Ye best hurry in case she shuts her shop,” said Macgregor, and so got -rid of him. - -While it is disappointing to record that Willie has thus far never -managed to repay Macgregor in hard cash, though he has somehow -succeeded in retaining the employment found for him by John, it is -comforting to know that his promise to do Macgregor a good turn was -more than just an emotional utterance. When, on the following -Wednesday and Friday nights, he stealthily tracked Macgregor to the -now familiar watching place, his motives were no longer curious or -selfish, but benevolent in the extreme. Not that he could bring -himself to sympathise with Macgregor in the latter’s devotion to a -mere girl, for, as a matter of fact, he regarded his friend’s -behaviour as “awfu’ stupid”; but if Macgregor was really “saft” on the -girl, it behoved him, Willie, to do what he could to put an end to the -existing misunderstanding. - -On the Friday night he came regretfully to the conclusion that the -“saftness” was incurable, and he accordingly determined to act on the -following afternoon. By this time his knowledge of the movements of M. -Tod and her assistant was practically as complete as Macgregor’s, so -that he had no hesitation in choosing the hour for action. He had -little fear of Macgregor’s coming near the shop in daylight. - -So, having witnessed the exit of M. Tod, he crossed the street, and -examined the contents of the window, as he had seen Macgregor do so -often. He was not in the least nervous. The fact that he was without -money did not perturb him: it would be the simplest thing in the world -to introduce himself and his business by asking for an article which -stationers’ shops did not supply. A glance at a druggist’s window had -given him the necessary suggestion. - -On entering he was seized with a most distressing cough, which racked -him while he closed the door and until he reached the counter. - -“A cold afternoon,” Christina remarked in a sympathetic tone. - -“Ay. Ha’e ye ony chest protectors?” he hoarsely enquired. - -For the fraction of a second only she hesitated. “Not exactly,” she -replied. “But I can recommend this.” From under the counter she -brought a quire of brown paper. “It’s cheaper than flannel and much -more sanitary,” she went on. “There’s nothing like it for keeping out -the cold. You’ve only got to cut out the shape that suits you.” She -separated a sheet from the quire and spread it on the counter. “Enough -there for a dozen protectors. Price one penny. I’ll cut them out for -you, if you like.” - -“The doctor said I was to get a flannel yin,” said Willie, forgetting -his hoarseness. “Ha’e ye ony nice ceegarettes the day, miss?” - -“No.” - -“Will ye ha’e ony on Monday?” - -“No.” - -“When d’ye think ye’ll ha’e some nice ceegarettes?” - -Christina’s eyes smiled. “Perhaps,” she said solemnly, “by the time -you’re big enough to smoke them. Anything else to-day?” - -“Ye’re no’ sae green,” he said, with grudging admiration. - -“No,” said she; “it’s only the reflection.” She opened the glass case -and took out an infant’s rattle. “Threepence!” - -Willie laughed. “My! ye’re a comic!” he exclaimed. - -“Children are easily amused.” - -There was a short pause. Then Willie, leaning his arms on the edge of -the counter, looked up in her face and said: - -“So you’re the girl that’s mashed on Macgreegor Robi’son.” He grinned. - -A breath of silence――a sounding smack. - -Willie sprang back, his hand to his cheek. Christina, cheeks flaming, -eyes glistening, teeth gleaming, hands clenched, drew herself up and -faced him. - -“Get oot o’ this!” she cried. “D’ye hear me! Get oot――――” - -“Ay, I hear ye,” said Willie resentfully, rubbing his cheek. “Ye’re -ower smart wi’ yer han’s. I meant for to say――――” - -“Be quiet!” - -“――you’re the girl Macgreegor’s mashed on――an’ I――――” - -Christina stamped her foot. “Clear oot, I tell ye!” - -“――I wudna be Macgreegor for a thoosan’ pounds! Keep yer hair on, -miss. I’ll gang when it suits me. Ye’ve got to hear――――” - -“I’ll no’ listen.” She put her hands to her ears. - -“Thon girl, Jessie Mary, took a rise oot o’ ye last week, an’ it was -me that put her up to it. Macgreegor gi’ed her the belt, richt enough, -but that was afore he got saft on you――――” - -“Silence! I cannot hear a word you say,” declared Christina, -recovering herself and her more formal speech, though her colour, -which had faded, now bloomed again. - -“I’ll cry it loud, if ye like, so as the folk in the street can hear. -But ye can pretend ye dinna hear,” he said ironically. “I’m no’ -heedin’ whether ye hear or no’.” - -“I wish you would go away, you impertinent thing!” - -“Macgreegor――――” he began. - -Once more she covered her ears. - -“Macgreegor,” proceeded Willie, with a rude wink, “never had ony -notion o’ takin’ Jessie Mary to the dance. She was jist coddin’ ye, -though I daursay she was kin’ o’ jealous because ye had cut her oot. -So I think ye should mak’ it up wi’ Macgreegor when ye get the chance. -He’s awfu’ saft on ye. I wudna be him for a――――” - -“Go away!” said Christina. “You’re simply wasting your breath.” - -“Dinna let on to Macgreegor that I tell’t ye,” he continued, unmoved, -“an’, if Jessie Mary tries it on again, jist you put yer finger to yer -nose at her.” - -“If you don’t go at once, I’ll――――” - -“Oh, ye canna dae onything, miss. I’ll forgi’e ye for that scud ye -gi’ed me, but I wud advise ye no’ to be so quick wi’ yer han’s in -future, or ye’ll maybe get into trouble.” He turned towards the door. -“I daursay ye ken fine that Macgreegor watches ye leavin’ the shop -every nicht――――” - -“What _are_ you talking about?” - -“Gi’e him a whistle or a wave the next time. There’s nae use in bein’ -huffy.” - -“That’s enough!” - -Willie opened the door. “An’ ye best hurry up, or ye’ll maybe loss -him. So long. I’ll no’ tell him I seen ye blushin’.” - -Christina opened her mouth, but ere she could speak, with a grin and a -wink he was gone. She collapsed upon the stool. She had never been so -angry in her life――at least, so she told herself. - - - - -CHAPTER THIRTEEN - - -John Robinson and his son sat on a pile of timber at the docks. Dusk -was falling, and the air that had been mild for the season was growing -chill. - -John replaced his watch in his pocket. “It’s comin’ on for tea-time. -Are ye ready for the road, Macgreegor?” - -“Ay,” said the boy, without stirring. - -For two hours he had been struggling to utter the words on which he -believed his future depended. - -“Weel,” said John, getting out his pipe preparatory to lighting it on -passing the gate, “we best be movin’.” - -It was now or never. Macgregor cleared his throat. - -“The pentin’ trade’s rotten,” he said in a voice not his own. - -“Eh?” said John, rather staggered by the statement which was without -relevance to any of the preceding conversation. “What’s rotten aboot -it?” - -“Everything.” - -“That’s the first I’ve heard o’ ’t. In fac’, I’m tell’t the pentin’ -trade is extra brisk the noo.” - -“That’s no’ what I meant,” Macgregor forced himself to say. “I meant -it was a rotten trade to be in.” - -John gave a good-humoured laugh. “Oh, I see! Ye dinna like the -overtime! Aweel, that’s nateral at your age, Macgreegor”――he patted -his son’s shoulder――“but when ye’re aulder, wi’ a wife an’ weans, -maybe, ye’ll be gled o’ overtime whiles, I’m thinkin’.” - -“It’s no the overtime,” said Macgregor. - -“What is’t, then? What’s wrang wi’ the trade?” The question was -lightly put. - -“There’s――there’s nae prospec’s in it for a man.” - -“Nae prospec’s! Hoots, Macgreegor! there’s as guid prospec’s in the -pentin’ as in ony ither trade. Dinna fash yer heid aboot that――no’ but -what I’m pleased to ken ye’re thinkin’ aboot yer prospec’s, ma son. -But we’ll speak aboot it on the road hame.” - -“I wish,” said Macgregor, with the greatest effort of all, “I wish I -had never gaed into it. I wish I had gaed into Uncle Purdie’s -business.” - -John sat down again. At last he said: “D’ye mean that, Macgreegor?” - -“Ay, I mean it.” - -For the first time within his memory John Robinson felt disappointed――in -a vague fashion, it is true, yet none the less unpleasantly -disappointed――in his son. - -“But ye’ve been at the pentin’ for three year,” he said a little -impatiently. - -“I ken that, fayther.” - -“An’ ye mind ye had the chance o’ gaun into yer uncle’s business when -ye left the schule?” - -“Ay.” - -“But ye wud ha’e naething but the pentin’.” - -Macgregor nodded. - -“Maybe ye mind that yer Aunt Purdie was unco offended, for it was her -notion――at least, it was her that spoke aboot it――an’ she declared ye -wud never get a second chance. D’ye no’ mind, Macgreegor?” - -“I mind aboot her bein’ offended, but I dinna mind aboot――the ither -thing,” Macgregor answered dully. - -“But _I_ mind it, for she was rale nesty to yer mither at the time. In -fac’, I dinna ken hoo yer mither stood her impiddence. An’, in a way, -it was a’ ma fau’t, for it was me that said ye was to choose the trade -that ye liked best――an’ I thocht I was daein’ the richt thing, because -I had seen lads spiled wi’ bein’ forced into trades they didna fancy. -Ay, I thocht I was daein’ the richt thing――――An’ noo ye’re tellin’ me -I did the wrang thing.” - -“Fayther, it’s me that’s to blame. I――I didna mean to vex ye.” - -“Aweel, I dinna suppose ye did,” said John sadly. “But for the life o’ -me I canna see hoo ye can hope to get into yer uncle’s business at -this time o’ day.... But we’ll be keepin’ yer mither waitin’.” - -He rose slowly and Macgregor joined him. At the gate John apparently -forgot to light his pipe. They were half way home ere he spoke. - -He put his hand round his son’s arm. “Ye’re no’ to think, Macgreegor, -that I wud stan’ in yer road when ye want to better yersel’. No’ -likely! I never was set on bein’ a wealthy man masel’, but naethin’ -wud mak’ me prooder nor to see you gang up in the world; an’ I can say -the same for yer mither. An’ I can see that ye micht gang far in yer -uncle’s business, for yer uncle was aye fond o’ ye, an’ I think ye -could manage to please him at yer work, if ye was tryin’. _But_――ye -wud need yer aunt’s favour to begin wi’, an’ that’s the bitter truth, -an’ she’s no’ the sort o’ body that forgets what she conseeders an -affront. Weel, it’ll need some thinkin’ ower. I’ll ha’e to see what -yer mither says. An’ ye best no’ expec’ onything. Stick to the pentin’ -in the meantime, an’ be vera certain afore ye quit the trade ye’re in. -That’s a’ I can say, ma son.” - -Macgregor had no words then. Never before had his father seriously -spoken at such length to him. His heart was heavy, troubled about many -things. - - * * * * * - -Eight o’clock on Monday night saw him at the accustomed spot; on -Wednesday night also he was there. If only Christina had been friends -with him he would have asked her what he ought to do. Yet the mere -glimpse of her confirmed him in his desire to change his trade. On the -Wednesday night it seemed to him that she walked away from the shop -much more slowly than usual, and the horrid thought that she might be -giving some other “man” a chance to overtake her assailed him. But at -last she was gone without that happening. - -On the way home he encountered Jessie Mary. She greeted him affably, -and he could not but stop. - -“Lovely dance on Friday. Ye should ha’e been there. Ma belt was -greatly admired,” she remarked. - -“Was it?” - -“I think I’ve seen the shop where ye bought it,” she said, watching -his face covertly. - -“It’s likely,” he replied, without emotion. - -Jessie Mary was relieved; evidently he was without knowledge of her -visit to the shop. Now that the world was going well with her again -she bore no ill-will, and was fain to avoid any. For at the eleventh -hour――or, to be precise, the night before the dance――she had -miraculously won back the allegiance of the young man with the -exquisite moustache, who served in the provision shop, and for the -present she was more than satisfied with herself. - -So she bade Macgregor good-night, a little patronisingly perhaps, and -hurried off to reward her recovered swain with the pleasant sight of -herself and an order for a finnan haddie. - -Macgregor was still in the dark as to whether his father had mentioned -to his mother the subject of that conversation at the docks. John had -not referred to it again, and the boy was beginning to wonder if his -case was hopeless. - -On the Friday night, however, just when he was about to slip from the -house, his mother followed him to the door. Very quietly she said: - -“When ye come in, Macgreegor, I want ye to tell me if ye’re still set -on leavin’ the pentin’. Dinna tell me noo. Tak’ yer walk, an’ think it -ower, seriouslike. But dinna be late, laddie.” - -She went back to the kitchen, leaving him to shut the door. - -It was not much after seven o’clock, but he went straightway in the -direction of M. Tod’s shop. For the first time in what seemed an age, -he found himself at the familiar, glittering window. And lo! the -glazed panel at the back was open a few inches. Quickly he retreated -to the edge of the pavement, and stood there altogether undecided. But -desire drew him, and gradually he approached the window again. - -Christina was sitting under the lamp, at the desk, her pretty profile -bent over her writing, her fair plait falling over the shoulder of her -scarlet shirt. She was engaged in pencilling queer little marks on -paper, and doing so very rapidly. Macgregor understood that she was -practising shorthand. No doubt she would be his uncle’s private -secretary some day, while he―――― - -All at once it came to him that no one in the world could answer the -great question but Christina. If the thing didn’t matter to Christina, -it didn’t matter to him; it was for her sake that he would strive to -be “guid enough yet,” not for the sake of being “guid enough” in -itself. Besides, she had put the idea into his head. Surely she would -not refuse to speak to him on that one subject. - -Now all this was hardly in accordance with the brave and independent -plan which Macgregor had set out to follow――to wit, that he would not -attempt to speak to Christina until he could announce that he was a -member of his uncle’s staff. Yes, love is the great maker of -plans――also, the great breaker. - -Coward or not, it took courage to enter the shop. - -Christina looked up, her colour deepening slightly. - -“Hullo,” she said coolly, though not coldly. - -It was not a snub anyway, and Macgregor walked up to the counter. He -came to the point at once. - -“Wud ye advise me to try an’ get a job frae ma uncle?” he said, -distinctly enough. - -“Me?” The syllable was fraught with intense astonishment. - -“Ye advised me afore to try it,” he said, fairly steadily. - -“Did I?”――carelessly. - -It was too much for him. “Oh, Christina!” he whispered reproachfully. - -“Well, I’m sure it’s none of my business. I thought you preferred -being a painter.” - -The pity was that Christina should have just then remembered the -existence of such a person as Jessie Mary, also the fact of her own -slow walk from the shop the previous night. Yet she had forgotten both -when she opened the panel at the back of the window a few inches. And -perhaps she was annoyed with herself, knowing that she was not -behaving quite fairly. - -He let her remark concerning his preference for the painting pass, and -put a very direct question. - -“What made ye change yer mind aboot me that night?” - -“What night?” she asked flippantly, and told herself it was the -silliest thing she had ever uttered. - -She had gone too far――she saw it in his face. - -“I didna think ye was as bad as that,” he said in a curiously hard -voice, and turned from the counter. - -Quick anger――quick compunction――quick fear――and then: - -“Mac!” - -He wheeled at the door. She was holding out her hand. Her smile was -frail. - -“Are ye in earnest?” he said in a low voice, but he did not wait for -her answer. - -She drew away her hand, gently. “Dinna ask me ony questions,” she -pleaded. “I――I didna really mean what I said that night, or this night -either. I think I was off my onion”――a faint laugh――“but I’m sorry I -behaved the way I did. Is that enough?” - -It was more than enough; how much more he could not say. “I’ve missed -ye terrible,” he murmured. - -Christina became her practical self. “So ye’re for tryin’ yer uncle’s -business――――” she began. - -“If he’ll gi’e me the chance.” - -“Weel, I’m sure I wish ye the best o’ luck.” - -“Then ye think I ought to try?” This with great eagerness. - -“If ye’ve made up yer mind it’s for the best,” she answered -cautiously. - -He had to be satisfied with that. “Will I let ye ken if it comes off?” - -She nodded. Then she glanced at her watch. - -“Can――can I get walkin’ hame wi’ ye, Christina?” It was out before he -knew. - -She shook her head. “Uncle said he wud come for me; he had some -business up this way. If ye wait a minute, ye’ll see him. I’ll -introduce ye. He’ll be interested seein’ ye’re a nephew o’ Mr. -Purdie.” - -“Oh, I couldna. I best hook it. But, Christina, I can come to-morrow, -eh?” - -She laughed. “I canna prevent ye. But I’ll no’ be here in the -afternoon. Uncle’s takin’ auntie an’ me to a matinée, an’ I’ll no’ be -back much afore six.” - -“Weel, I’ll meet ye at eight an’ walk hame wi’ ye.” - -“Will ye?” - -“Oh, Christina; say ’ay.’” - -“I’ll consider it.” - -And he had to be satisfied with that, too, for at this point the noisy -door opened to admit a tall, clean-shaven, pleasant-featured man of -middle-age. - -“Hullo, uncle!” cried Christina. - -Macgregor fled, but not without gaining a quick smile that made all -the difference in the world to him. - -Ten minutes later he hurried into the home kitchen. - -“Mither, I’ve decided to leave the pentin’.” The moment he said it his -heart misgave him, and the colour flew to his face. But he need not -have doubted his parents. - -“Weel, ma son,” said John soberly, “we’ll dae the best we can wi’ yer -Aunt Purdie.” - -“Jist that,” said Lizzie. - -And that was all. - - * * * * * - -An urgent piece of work had to be done the following afternoon, and he -was later than usual, for a Saturday, in getting home. He found his -mother preparing to go out, and his father looking strangely -perplexed. - -“She’s gaun to see yer Aunt Purdie,” said John in a whisper. - -Macgregor looked from one to the other, hesitated, and went over to -Lizzie. He put his hand on her arm. - -“Mither, ye’re no’ to gang. I――I’ll gang masel’.” - -Then, indeed, Lizzie Robinson perceived that her boy was in danger of -becoming a man. - - - - -CHAPTER FOURTEEN - - -To press the little black button at the door of his aunt’s handsome -west-end flat was the biggest thing Macgregor had ever done. As a -small boy he had feared his Aunt Purdie, as a schoolboy he had hated -her, as a youth he had despised her; his feelings towards her now were -not to be described, but it is certain that they included a well-nigh -overpowering sense of dread; indeed, the faint thrill of the electric -bell sent him back a pace towards the stair. His state of perspiration -gave place to one of miserable chillness. - -A supercilious servant eyed his obviously “good” clothes and bade him -wait. Nevertheless, a sting was what Macgregor needed just then; it -roused the fighting spirit. When the servant returned, and in an aloof -fashion――as though, after all, it was none of her business――suggested -that he might enter, he was able to follow her across the hall, with -its thick rugs and pleasantly warm atmosphere, to the drawing-room, -without faltering. Less than might have been expected the grandeur of -his surroundings impressed――or depressed――him, for in the course of -his trade he had grown familiar with the houses of the rich. But he -had enough to face in the picture without looking at the frame. - -Mrs. Purdie was seated at the side of the glowing hearth, apparently -absorbed in the perusal of a charitable society’s printed list of -donations. - -“Your nephew, ma’am,” the servant respectfully announced and retired. - -Mrs. Purdie rose in a manner intended to be languid. Macgregor had not -seen the large yet angular figure for two years. With his hat in his -left hand he went forward holding out his right. A stiff, brief -handshake followed. - -“Well, Macgregor, this is quite an unexpected pleasure,” she said, -unsmiling, resuming her seat. “Take a chair. It is a considerable -period since I observed you last.” Time could not wither the flowers -of language for Mrs. Purdie. “You are getting quite a big boy. How old -are you now? Are your parents in good health?” She did not wait for -answers to these inquiries. “I am sorry your uncle is not at home. His -commercial pursuits confine him to his new and commodious premises -even on Saturday afternoons.” (At that moment Mr. Purdie was smoking a -pipe in the homely parlour of Christina’s uncle, awaiting his old -friend’s return from the theatre.) “His finance is exceedingly high at -present.” With a faint smack of her lips she paused, and cast an -inquiring glance at her visitor. - -Macgregor saw the ice, so to speak, before him. The time had come. But -he did not go tapping round the edge. Gathering himself together, he -leaped blindly. - -In a few ill-chosen words he blurted out his petition. - -Then there fell an awful silence. And then――he could hardly believe -his own ears! - -There are people in the world who seem hopelessly unloveable until -you――perforce, perhaps――ask of them a purely personal favour. There -may even be people who leave the world with their fountains of -goodwill still sealed simply because no one had the courage or the -need to break the seals for them. Until to-day the so-called favours -of Aunt Purdie had been mere patronage and cash payments. - -Even now she could not help speaking patronisingly to Macgregor, but -through the patronage struggled a kindliness and sympathy of which her -relations so long used to her purse-pride, her affectations, her -absurdities, could never have imagined her capable. She made no -reference to the past; she suggested no difficulties for the present; -she cast no doubts upon the future. Her nephew, she declared, had done -wisely in coming to her; she would see to it that he got his chance. -It seemed to Macgregor that she promised him ten times all he would -have dreamed of asking. Finally she bade him stay to dinner and see -his uncle; then perceiving his anxiety to get home and possibly, also, -his dread of offending her by expressing it, she invited him for the -following Sunday evening, and sent him off with a full heart and a -light head. - - * * * * * - -He burst into the kitchen, bubbling over with his wonderful news. -During its recital John gave vent to noisy explosions of satisfaction, -Jeannie beamed happily, Jimsie stared at his transformed big brother, -and Lizzie, though listening with all her ears, began quietly to -prepare her son’s tea. - -“An’ so she treated ye weel, Macgreegor,” said John, rubbing his -hands, while the speaker paused for words. - -“She did that! An’ I’m to get dooble the wages I’m gettin’ the noo, -an’ I’ve to spend the half o’ them on night classes, for, ye see, I’m -to learn _everything_ aboot the business, an’ then――――” - -Said Lizzie gently: “Wud ye like yer egg biled or fried, dearie?” - - * * * * * - -It was nearly eight o’clock when he reached the shop, and he decided -to wait at a short distance from the window until Christina came out. -He was not going to risk interruption by the old woman or a late -customer; he would tell his wonderful tale in the privacy of the busy -pavement, under the secrecy of the noisy street. Yet he was -desperately impatient, and with every minute after the striking of the -hour a fresh doubt assailed him. - -At last the lights in the window went out, and the world grew -brighter. Presently he was moving to meet her, noting dimly that she -was wearing a bigger hat than heretofore. - -She affected surprise at the sight of him, but not at his eagerly -whispered announcement: - -“I’ve got it!” - -“Good for you,” she said kindly, and refrained from asking him, -teasingly, where he thought he was going. “It was lovely at the -theatre,” she remarked, stepping forward. - -“Dae ye no’ want to hear aboot it?” he asked, disappointed, catching -up with her. - -“Of course,” she said cheerfully. “Was yer uncle nice?” - -“It was ma aunt,” he explained somewhat reluctantly, for he feared she -might laugh. But she only nodded understandingly, and, relieved, he -plunged into details. - -“Ye’ve done fine,” she said when he had finished――for the time being, -at anyrate. “I’m afraid it’ll be you that’ll be wantin’ a private -secretary when I get that length.” - -“Dinna laugh at me,” he murmured reproachfully. - -“Dinna be ower serious, Mac,” she returned. “Ye’ll get on a’ the -better for bein’ able to tak’ a joke whiles. I’m as pleased as Punch -aboot it.” - -He was more pleased, if possible. “If it hadna been for you, -Christina, I wud never ha’e had the neck to try it,” he said warmly. - -“I believe ye!” she said quaintly. - -“But it’s the truth――an’ I’ll never forget it.” - -“A guid memory’s a gran’ thing! An’ when dae ye start wi’ yer uncle?” - -“Monday week.” - -“That’s quick work. Ye’ve beat me a’ to sticks. Dinna get swelled -heid!” - -“Christina, I wish ye wudna――――” - -“I canna help it. It’s the theatre, I suppose. Oh, I near forgot to -tell ye, yer uncle was in when we got hame frae the theatre. I hadna -time to speak to him, for I had to run back to the shop. Hadna even -time to change ma dress. I think yer uncle whiles gets tired o’ bein’ -a rich man an’ livin’ in a swell house. Maybe _you’ll_ feel that way -some day.” - -He let her run on, now and then glancing wistfully at her pretty, -animated face. The happiness, the triumph, he had anticipated were not -his. But all the more they were worth working for. - -So they came to the place where she lived. - -“Come up,” she said easily; “I tell’t auntie I wud maybe bring ye up -for supper.” - -Doubtless it was the shock of gratification as much as anything that -caused him to hang back. She had actually mentioned him to her aunt! - -“Will ma uncle be there?” he stammered at last. - -“Na, na. Ye’ll see plenty o’ _him_ later on!” - -“Maybe yer aunt winna be pleased――――” - -“Come on, Mac! Ye’re ower shy for this world!” she laughed -encouragingly. - -They went up together. - -Christina had a latch-key, and on opening the door, said: - -“Oh, they haven’t come home yet. Out for a walk, I suppose. But -they’ll be home in a minute. Come in. There’s a peg for your hat.” - -She led the way into a fire-lit room and turned up the gas. Macgregor -saw a homely, cosy parlour, something like his grandfather’s at -Rothesay, but brighter generally. A round table was trimly laid for -supper. In the window a small table supported a typewriter and a pile -of printed and manuscript books, the sight of which gave him a sort of -sinking feeling. - -“Sit down,” she said, indicating an easy-chair. “Auntie and uncle -won’t be long.” - -He took an ordinary chair, and tried hard to look at his ease. - -As she took off her hat at the mirror over the mantelpiece she -remarked: “You’ll like uncle at once, and you’ll like auntie before -long. She’s still a wee bit prim.” - -He noticed that her speech had changed with entering the house, but -somehow the “genteel English” did not seem so unnatural now. He -supposed he would have to learn to speak it, too, presently. - -“But she is the best woman in the world,” Christina continued, patting -her hair, “and she’ll be delighted about you going into your uncle’s -business. I think it was splendid of you managing your aunt so well.” - -Macgregor smiled faintly. “I doobt it was her that managed me,” he -said. “But, Christina, I’ll no’ let her be sorry――nor――nor you -either.” - -“Oh, I’m sure you’ll get on quickly,” she said, gravely, bending to -unbutton her long coat. - -“I intend to dae that,” he cried, uplifted by her words. “Gi’e me a -year or twa, an’ I’ll show ye!” - -She slipped out of the coat, and stood for a moment, faintly smiling, -in her best frock, a simple thing of pale grey lustre relieved with -white, her best black shoes, her best thread stockings, her heavy -yellow plait over her left shoulder. - -The boy caught his breath. - -“Just a minute,” she said, and left the room to put away her coat and -hat. - -Macgregor half turned in his chair, threw his arms upon the back and -pressed his brow to his wrist. - -So she found him on her return. - -“Sore head, Mac?” she asked gently, recovering from her surprise, and -going close to him. - -“Let me gang,” he whispered; “I――I’ll never be guid enough.” - -The slight sound of a key in the outer door reached the girl’s ears. -She gave her eyes an impatient little rub. - -She laid a hand on his shoulder. - -“Cheer up!” she said, almost roughly, and stooping quickly, she -touched her lips to his hair, so lightly, so tenderly, that he was not -aware. - - - - -Transcriber’s Note - -Words and phrases in italics are surrounded by underscores, _like -this_. Dialect, inconsistent hyphenation, obsolete words and -misspellings were left unchanged. - -The following were adjusted: - - … unmoved, “an’ [added apostrophe], if … - … “He’s growin’ up, Lizzie.” [added missing close quote] … - … it doesna matter.” [deleted close quote] I’ll awa’ hame.” … - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Courtin' Christina, by J. J. Bell - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COURTIN' CHRISTINA *** - -***** This file should be named 63806-0.txt or 63806-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/8/0/63806/ - -Produced by Carol Brown, David Garcia, Larry B. 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Bell—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 12%; - margin-right: 12%; -} - /* Heading Styles */ - .h1head,.h2head,.h3head,.h4head { - clear: both; - display: block; - text-indent: 0em; - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - page-break-before: avoid; } - - .h1head { - margin: 4em 5% 1em; - font-size: 200%; } - .h2head { - margin: 2em 5% 1em; - font-size: 160%; } - .h3head { - margin: 1em 5% 1em; - font-size: 120%;} - .h4head { - margin: 2em 5% 1em; - font-size: 110%; } - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always; - margin-top: 4em;} - -span.lock {white-space: nowrap;} - -a:link {text-decoration:none;} /* no UL of any links - for html accessibility */ - -/* paragraph formatting */ -p {text-indent: 1.25em; - margin-top: .75em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .75em;} -.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} -.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} - -.unindent {text-indent: 0em; - margin-top: .75em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .75em;} - -.center {text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.linebox {border-top-style:double; border-top-width:thick;} /* chapter heads */ - -/* Font styling */ -.sc {font-style: normal; font-variant: small-caps;} -em {font-style: italic;} -.smaller {font-size: 83%;} -.larger {font-size: 120%;} -.lang {font-style: italic;} /* foreign words */ -.strong {font-weight: bold;} -.lowercase {text-transform: lowercase;} /*for words that are all small caps */ - -/* Image - Printer Logo */ -.figcenter { - clear: both; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -/* remove bullets from TN list */ -.none {list-style-type: none;} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Courtin' Christina, by J. J. Bell - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Courtin' Christina - -Author: J. J. Bell - -Release Date: November 18, 2020 [EBook #63806] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COURTIN' CHRISTINA *** - - - - -Produced by Carol Brown, David Garcia, Larry B. Harrison -and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -https://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h1 class="h1head right">COURTIN’<br /> -CHRISTINA</h1> - -<h2 class="h2head right">J. J. BELL</h2> -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="h1head">COURTIN’ CHRISTINA</h2> - -<p class="p4 center strong">BY</p> -<h2 class="h2head">J. J. BELL</h2> - -<p class="center">AUTHOR OF<br /> -“WEE MACGREGOR,” “JIM,”<br /> -“OH! CHRISTINA,” ETC.</p> - -<div class="p4 figcenter"> - <img src="images/logo.jpg" - alt="Printer's Logo'" - /> -</div> - -<p class="p4 center larger">HODDER & STOUGHTON</p> -<p class="center larger">NEW YORK</p> -<p class="center larger">GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY</p> -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p4 center">Copyright, 1913<br /> -<span class="sc">By George H. Doran Company</span></p> -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center">TO</p> - -<p class="center larger">J. E. HODDER WILLIAMS</p> - -<p class="center smaller">WHO SUGGESTED IT</p> -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="h2head">COURTIN’ CHRISTINA</h2> -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="linebox" /> -<h3 class="h3head">CHAPTER ONE</h3> -<hr /> - -<p class="p2"><span class="sc">Mrs. Robinson</span> conveyed sundry dishes from -the oven, also the teapot from the hob, to the -table.</p> - -<p>“Come awa’,” she said briskly, seating herself. -“We’ll no’ wait for Macgreegor.”</p> - -<p>“Gi’e him five minutes, Lizzie,” said Mr. Robinson.</p> - -<p>“I’m in nae hurry,” remarked Gran’paw Purdie, -who had come up from the coast that afternoon.</p> - -<p>“I’m awfu’ hungry, Maw,” piped a young voice.</p> - -<p>“Whisht, Jimsie,” whispered daughter Jeannie.</p> - -<p>Said Mrs. Robinson, a little impatiently: -“Come awa’, come awa’, afore everything gets -spiled. Macgreegor has nae business to be that -late.” She glanced at the clock. “He’s been the -same a’ week. Haste ye, John.”</p> - -<p>John opened his mouth, but catching his wife’s -eye, closed it again without speech.</p> - -<p>Excepting Jimsie, they came to the table rather -reluctantly.</p> - -<p>“Ask a blessin’, fayther,” murmured Lizzie.</p> - -<p>“Shut yer eyes,” muttered Jeannie to her little -brother, while she restrained his eager paw from -reaching a cookie.</p> - -<p>Mr. Purdie’s white head shook slightly as he said -grace; he had passed his five and seventieth birthday, -albeit his spirit was cheerful as of yore; in his -case old age seemed to content itself with an occasional -mild reminder.</p> - -<p>John distributed portions of stewed finnan -haddie, Lizzie poured out the tea, while Jeannie -methodically prepared a small feast for the impatient -Jimsie. Gran’paw Purdie beamed on the -four, but referred surreptitiously at brief intervals -to his fat silver watch.</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>It is eight years since last we saw the Robinson -family. Naturally we find the greatest changes in -the younger members. Jimsie from an infant has -become a schoolboy; he is taller, more scholarly, -less disposed to mischief, more subdued of nature -than was Macgregor at the same age; yet he is -the frank, animated young query that his brother -was, though, to be sure, he has a sister as well as -parents to puzzle with his questions. At thirteen -Jeannie is a comely, fair-haired little maid, serious -for her years, devoted to Jimsie, very proud of -Macgregor, and a blessing to her parents who, -strangely enough, rarely praise her; her chief end -seems to be to serve those she loves without making -any fuss about it.</p> - -<p>As for John, he has grown stouter, and to his -wife’s dismay a bald spot has appeared on his -crown; his laughter comes as readily as ever, and -he is just as prone to spoil his children. But by -this time Lizzie has become assured that her man’s -light-hearted, careless ways do not extend to his -work, that his employers have confidence in their -foreman, and that while he is not likely to rise -higher in his trade, he is still less likely to slip -back. She is proud of the three-roomed modern -flat in which she and hers dwell, and her sense for -orderliness and cleanliness has not lost its keenness. -In person she is but little altered: perhaps -her features have grown a shade softer.</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>“Ye see, Maister Purdie,” John was explaining, -“Macgreegor’s busy the noo at a job in the west-end, -an’ that’s the reason he’s late for his tea.”</p> - -<p>“’Deed, ay. It’s a lang road for him to come -hame,” said the old man. “An’ is he still likin’ -the pentin’ trade?”</p> - -<p>“Ay, ay. An’ he’s gettin’ on splendid—jist -splendid!”</p> - -<p>“It’s time enough to be sayin’ that,” Lizzie interposed. -“He’s no’ ony furder on nor a lad o’ his -age ought to be. I’m no’ sayin’ he’s daein’ badly, -fayther; but there’s nae sense in boastin’ aboot -what’s jist or’nar’?—Na, Jimsie! it’s no’ time for -jeelly yet. Tak’ what Jeannie gi’es ye, laddie.—Ay, -the least <span class="lock">said——”</span></p> - -<p>“But his employer’s pleased wi’ him; he tell’t -me as much, wife,” said John. “An’ if ye compare -Macgreegor wi’ that young scamp, Wullie -<span class="lock">Thomson——”</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, if ye compare a man wi’ a monkey, I -daresay it’s no’ sae bad for the man. But, really, -<span class="lock">John——”</span></p> - -<p>“Maw, where was the man wi’ the monkey?” -enquired Jimsie through bread and butter.</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell ye after,” whispered Jeannie, and forthwith -set her mind to improvise a story involving a -human being and his ancestor.</p> - -<p>“It’s easy seen,” said Gran’paw, once more consulting -his watch, “that Macgreegor’s workin’ for -his wages. Surely he’ll be gettin’ overtime the -nicht. I hope his employer’s a kind man.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve nae doot aboot that,” Lizzie returned. -“He gi’es Macgreegor money for the car when he’s -workin’ in the west-end.”</p> - -<p>“That’s a proper maister!” cried Mr. Purdie, -while John smiled as much as to say, “Ay! he kens -Macgreegor’s value!”</p> - -<p>“An’ I’m thinkin’,” Lizzie continued, “that -Macgreegor walks hame an’ keeps the pennies to -buy ceegarettes.”</p> - -<p>“What?” exclaimed the old man; “has the laddie -commenced the smokin’ a’ready?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, naething to speak aboot,” said John, a -trifle apologetically. “They commence earlier than -they did in your day, I suppose, Maister Purdie. -No’ that I wud smoke a ceegarette if I was paid -for ’t.”</p> - -<p>“He’s far ower young for the smokin’,” observed -Lizzie.</p> - -<p>“<em>I</em> can smoke,” declared Jimsie indiscreetly. -Jeannie pressed his arm.</p> - -<p>John guffawed, Gran’paw looked amused until -Lizzie demanded: “What’s that ye’re sayin’, -Jimsie?”</p> - -<p>“But I’m no’ a reg’lar smoker,” mumbled Jimsie, -crestfallen.</p> - -<p>“Ay,” said John, with a jocular wink at his -father-in-law, “ye’re feart ye singe yer whiskers, -ma mannie.”</p> - -<p>“John,” said Lizzie, “it’s naething to joke aboot.... -Jimsie, if ever I catch ye at the smokin’, I’ll -stop yer Seturday penny, an’ gi’e ye castor ile instead. -D’ye hear?”</p> - -<p>“Hoots!” cried Gran’paw, “that’s a terrible -severe-like punishment, Lizzie!”</p> - -<p>“I wud rayther tak’ ile twicet an’ get ma penny,” -quoth Jimsie.</p> - -<p>“Hear, hear!” from John.</p> - -<p>Lizzie was about to speak when the bell rang.</p> - -<p>Jeannie slipped from her chair. “I’ll gang, -Maw,” she said, and went out.</p> - -<p>“It’s Macgreegor,” remarked John. “Ha’e ye -kep’ his haddie hot for him, Lizzie?”</p> - -<p>“What for wud I dae that?” retorted Mrs. -Robinson in a tone of irony, going over to the oven -and extracting a covered dish.</p> - -<p>“Haw!” laughed John. “I kent ye had something -there!”</p> - -<p>“What for did ye ask then?”</p> - -<p>She came back to the table as her son entered, a -very perceptible odour of his trade about him—an -odour which she still secretly disliked though nearly -three years had gone since her first whiff of it. -“What kep’ ye?” she enquired, pleasantly enough.</p> - -<p>It is possible that Macgregor’s dutiful greeting to -his grandfather prevented his answering the question. -He appeared honestly glad to see the old -man; yet compared with his own the latter’s greeting -was boisterous. He returned his father’s smile, -glanced at his mother who was engaged in filling -his cup, winked at his young brother, and took his -place at the table, between the two men.</p> - -<p>“Ye’ll be wearied,” remarked John.</p> - -<p>“No’ extra,” he replied, stretching his tired legs -under cover of the table.</p> - -<p>“Did ye walk?” his mother asked, passing him -his tea.</p> - -<p>“Ay.”</p> - -<p>“It’ll be three mile,” said John.</p> - -<p>Jeannie came from the fire and put a fresh slice -of toast on his plate. He nodded his thanks, and -she went to her place satisfied and assisted Jimsie -who had got into difficulties with a jam sandwich -that oozed all round.</p> - -<p>“What way did ye no’ tak’ the car, laddie?” -enquired Lizzie.</p> - -<p>“I’d as sune walk,” he replied, shortly.</p> - -<p>“It’s fine to save the siller—eh, Macgreegor?” -said Mr. Purdie.</p> - -<p>Macgregor reddened.</p> - -<p>“It’s something new for Macgreegor to dae -that,” Lizzie quietly observed.</p> - -<p>“Tits, wumman!” muttered John.</p> - -<p>“Wi’ their cheap cars,” put in Mr. Purdie, -“Glesga folk are like to loss the use o’ their legs. -It’s terrible to see the number o’ young folk that -winna walk if they’ve a bawbee in their pooch. -I’m gled to see Macgreegor’s no’ yin o’ them.” He -patted Macgregor’s shoulder as he might have done -ten years ago, and the youth moved impatiently.</p> - -<p>“I’m no’ complainin’ o’ Macgreegor walkin’ -when he micht tak’ the car,” said Lizzie, “but I -wud like to see him puttin’ his savin’s to some guid -purpose.”</p> - -<p>At these words Macgregor went a dull red, and -set down his cup with a clatter.</p> - -<p>“Ha’e ye burnt yer mooth?” asked John, with -quick sympathy.</p> - -<p>“Naw,” was the ungracious reply. “It’s naebody’s -business whether I tak’ the car or tramp it. -See’s the butter, Jeannie.”</p> - -<p>There was a short silence. An outbreak of temper -on Macgregor’s part was not of frequent occurrence. -Then John turned the conversation to -a big fire that had taken place in Glasgow the previous -night, and the son finished his meal in silence.</p> - -<p>At the earliest possible moment Macgregor left -the kitchen. For some reason or other the desire -to get away from his elders was paramount. A -few minutes later he was in the little room which -belonged to him and Jimsie. On the inside of the -door was a bolt, screwed there by himself some -months ago. He shot it now. With a towel that -hung on the door he rubbed his wet face savagely. -He had washed his hands in turpentine ere leaving -the scene of his work.</p> - -<p>He donned a clean collar. As he was fixing his -Sunday tie a summons came to the door. He went -and opened it, looking cross.</p> - -<p>“Weel, what are ye wantin’, Jimsie?”</p> - -<p>“Did ye bring ma putty, Macgreegor?”</p> - -<p>“Och, I clean forgot.”</p> - -<p>Jimsie’s face fell. “Ye promised,” he complained.</p> - -<p>Macgregor patted the youngster’s head. “I’ll -bring it the morn’s nicht, as sure as death,” he said. -“I’m sorry, Jimsie,” he added apologetically.</p> - -<p>“See an’ no’ forget again,” said Jimsie, and retired.</p> - -<p>Macgregor closed the door and attended to his -tie. Then he looked closely at his face in the mirror -hanging near the window. He was not a particularly -good-looking lad, yet his countenance -suggested nothing coarse or mean. His features -as features, however, did not concern him now. -From his vest pocket he brought a knife, with a -blade thinned by stone and polished by leather. -He tried its keen edge on his thumb, shook his -head, and applied the steel to his boot. Presently -he began to scrape his upper lip. It pained him, -and he desisted. Not for the first time he wished -he had a real razor.</p> - -<p>Having put the knife away, he looked at his -watch—his grandfather’s prize for “good conduct” -of eight years ago—and proceeded hastily -to brush his hair. His hair, as his mother had -often remarked during his childhood, was “awfu’ -ill to lie.” For a moment or two he regarded his -garments. He would have changed them had he -had time—or was it courage?</p> - -<p>Finally he took from his pockets a key and two -pennies. He opened a drawer in the old chest, and -placed the pennies in a disused tobacco tin, which -already contained a few coins. He knew very well -the total sum therein, but he reckoned it up once -more. One shilling and sevenpence.</p> - -<p>Every Saturday he handed his wages to his -mother, who returned him sixpence. His present -hoard was the result of two weeks’ abstinence from -cigarettes and walking instead of taking the car. -He knew the job in the west-end would take at least -another week, which meant another sixpence, and -the coming Saturday would bring a second sixpence. -Total in the near future:—two shillings and sevenpence. -He smiled uncertainly, and locked up the -treasure.</p> - -<p>A minute later he slipped quietly into the passage -and took his cap from its peg.</p> - -<p>The kitchen door opened. “Whaur are ye gaun, -Macgreegor?” his mother asked.</p> - -<p>“Oot,” he replied briefly, and went. Going -down the stairs he felt sorry somehow. Sons often -feel sorry somehow, but mothers may never know it.</p> - -<p>When Lizzie, hiding her hurt, had shut the -kitchen door, Mr. Purdie said softly: “That -question an’ that answer, ma dear, are as auld as -human natur’.”</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>As Macgregor turned out of the tenement close -he encountered his one-time chum, Willie Thomson. -Macgregor might not have admitted it to his parents, -but during the last few weeks he had been -finding Willie’s company less and less desirable.</p> - -<p>Willie now put precisely the same question that -Mrs. Robinson had put a minute earlier.</p> - -<p>“I’ll maybe see ye later,” was Macgregor’s -evasive response, delivered awkwardly. He passed -on.</p> - -<p>“Ha’e ye a ceegarette on ye?” cried Willie, taking -a step after him.</p> - -<p>“Na.”</p> - -<p>“Ye’re in a queer hurry.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll maybe see ye later,” said Macgregor again, -increasing his speed in a curious guilty fashion.</p> - -<p>Willie made no attempt to overtake him. He, -too, had been finding a certain staleness in the old -friendship—especially since Macgregor had -stopped his purchases of cigarettes. Willie was as -often out of employment as in it, but he did not -realise that he was in danger of becoming a mere -loafer and sponge. Yet he was fond of Macgregor.</p> - -<p>Macgregor passed from the quiet street wherein -he lived into one of Glasgow’s highways, aglow -with electric light, alive with noise out of all proportion -to its traffic. He continued to walk swiftly, -his alert eyes betraying his eagerness, for the distance -of a couple of blocks. Then into another -quiet street he turned, and therein his pace became -slower and slower, until it failed altogether. Beneath -a gas lamp he questioned his watch, his expression -betokening considerable anxiety.</p> - -<p>It was a fine October night, but chilly—not that -he gave any sign of feeling cold. For a space he -remained motionless, gazing up the street. Possibly -he would have liked a cigarette just then.</p> - -<p>As though rousing himself, he moved abruptly -and proceeded slowly to the next lamp post, turned -about and came back to his first halting-place, where -he turned about again. For a long half-hour he -continued to stroll between the two posts. Few -persons passed him, and he did not appear to notice -them. Indeed, it may as well be frankly admitted -that he shamefully avoided their glances. When -at last he did stop, it was with a sort of jerk.</p> - -<p>From one of the closes a girl emerged and came -towards him.</p> -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="linebox" /> -<h3 class="h3head">CHAPTER TWO</h3> -<hr /> -<p class="p2"><span class="sc">Macgregor’s</span> acquaintance with Jessie Mary was -almost as old as himself; yet only within the last -three months had he recognised her existence as -having aught of importance to do with his own. -This recognition had followed swift on the somewhat -sudden discovery that Jessie Mary was pretty.</p> - -<p>The discovery was made at a picnic, organised by -a section of the great drapery store wherein Jessie -Mary found employment, Macgregor’s presence at -the outing being accounted for by the fact that in a -weak moment he had squandered a money gift -from his grandparents on the purchase of two -tickets for Katie, his first love (so far as we -know), and himself. The picnic was a thorough -success, but neither Macgregor nor Katie enjoyed -it. It was not so much that anything came between -them, as that something that had been between -them departed—evaporated. There was no -quarrel; merely a dulness, a tendency to silence, increasing -in dreariness as the bright day wore on. -And, at last, in the railway compartment, on the -way home, they sat, crushed together by the crowd, -Katie dumb with dismay, Macgregor steeped in -gloom.</p> - -<p>Opposite them sat Jessie Mary and her escort, a -young man with sleek hair, a pointed nose, several -good teeth, and a small but exquisite black moustache. -These two were gay along with the majority -of the occupants of the carriage. Perhaps in -her simple sixteen-year-old heart Katie began to -realise that she was deserted indeed; perhaps Macgregor -experienced prickings of shame, not that he -had ever given or asked promises. Still, it is to -be hoped that he did not remember then any of -Katie’s innocent little advances of the past.</p> - -<p>Affection ’twixt youth and youth is such a delicate, -sensitive thing, full of promise as the pretty -egg of a bonny bird, and as easily broken.</p> - -<p>Macgregor was caught by the vivacious dark -eyes of Jessie Mary, snared by her impudent red -mouth, held by the charm of her face, which the -country sun had tinted with an unwonted bloom. -Alas for the little brown mouse at his side! At -briefer and briefer intervals he allowed his gloomy -glance to rest on the girl opposite, while he became -more and more convinced that the young man -with the exquisite moustache was a “bletherin’ -idiot.” Gradually he shifted his position to the -very edge of the seat, so as to lessen his contact -with Katie. And when Jessie Mary, without -warning, presented to his attention her foot in its -cheap, stylish shoe, saying: “I wish ye wud tie -ma lace, Macgreegor,” a strange wild thrill of pride -ran through his being, though, to be sure, he went -scarlet to the ears and his fingers could scarce perform -their office. There were friends of Jessie -Mary who declared that Macgregor never would -have noticed her at all that day had she not been -wearing a white frock with a scarlet belt; but that -was grossly unfair to Jessie Mary. The animation -and fresh coquetry of eighteen were also hers.</p> - -<p>Nigh three months had gone, autumn had come, -and here in a dingy side-street the captivated youth -had lingered on the bare chance of a glimpse of the -same maiden in her every-day attire, his mind tormented -by his doubts as to his reception, should she -happen to appear.</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>And now she was approaching him. For the -life of him he could neither advance nor retire. -Still, such of his wits as had remained faithful informed -him that it was “stupid-like” to do nothing -at all. Whereupon he drew out his watch and appeared -to be profoundly interested in the time. At -the supreme moment of encounter his surprise was, -it must be confessed, extremely badly managed, and -he touched his cap with the utmost diffidence and -without a word.</p> - -<p>“Hullo!” Jessie Mary remarked carelessly. -“Fancy meetin’ you, as the man said to the sassige -roll!”</p> - -<p>It had been a mutton-pie at their last meeting, -Macgregor remembered, trying to laugh. Some -comfort might have been his had he known that -this flippancy, or its variant, was her form of greeting -to all the young men then enjoying her acquaintance. -Jessie Mary usually kept a joke going -for about three months, and quite successfully, too.</p> - -<p>“Did ye no’ expec’ to meet me?” He stumbled -over the words.</p> - -<p>Jessie Mary laughed lightly, mockingly. “I -wasna aware yer best girl lived in this street.”</p> - -<p>“It—it’s no’ the first time ye’ve seen me here,” -he managed to say.</p> - -<p>She laughed again. “Weel, that’s true. I wonder -wha the girl is.” He would have told her if he -could, poor boy. “But I must hurry,” she went on, -“or the shops’ll be shut.”</p> - -<p>“Can I no’ gang wi’ ye?” he asked, with a great -effort.</p> - -<p>“Oh, ye can come as far as Macrorie’s,” she -answered graciously, mentioning a provision shop.</p> - -<p>Young love is ever grateful for microscopic -mercies, and Macgregor’s spirit took courage as he -fell into step with her. Jessie Mary was a handsomely -built young woman; her shoulder was quite -on a level with his. There were times when he -would fain have been taller; times, also, when -he would fain have been older, for Jessie Mary’s -years exceeded his own by two. Nevertheless, he -was now thinking of her age without reference to -his own. He was, in fact, about to speak of it, -when Jessie Mary said:</p> - -<p>“I’m to get to the United Ironmongers’ dance -on Friday week, after a’. When fayther was at -his tea the nicht, he said I could gang.”</p> - -<p>She might as well have poured a jug of ice -water over him. “Aw, did he?” he murmured -feebly.</p> - -<p>“Ye should come, Macgreegor,” she continued. -“Only three-an’-six for a ticket admittin’ lady an’ -gent.”</p> - -<p>“Och, I’m no’ heedin’ aboot dancin’,” said Macgregor, -knowing full well that his going was out -of the question.</p> - -<p>“It’ll be a splendid dance. They’ll keep it up -till three,” she informed him.</p> - -<p>With his heart in his mouth he enquired who was -taking her to the dance.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I ha’ena decided yet.” She gave her head -a becoming little toss. “I’ve several offers. I’ll -let them quarrel in the meantime.”</p> - -<p>Perhaps it was some consolation to know that she -had not decided on any particular escort, and that -the rivals were at war with one another. While -there is strife there is hope.</p> - -<p>“Ay; ye’ll ha’e plenty offers,” he managed to -say steadily, and felt rather pleased with himself.</p> - -<p>“I’m seriously thinking o’ wearin’ pink,” she -told him as they turned into the main street. “It’s -maybe a wee thing common, but I’ve been told it -suits me.”</p> - -<p>Macgregor wondered who had told her, and -stifling his jealousy, observed that pink was a bonny -colour.... “But—but ye wud look fine in ony -auld thing.” Truly he was beginning to get on.</p> - -<p>So, at least, Jessie Mary seemed to think. -“Nane o’ yer flattery!” she said with a coquettish -laugh.</p> - -<p>“I wud like fine to see ye at the dance,” he said -with a sigh.</p> - -<p>“Come—an’ I’ll gi’e ye a couple o’ dances—three, -if I can spare them.” Hitherto Jessie Mary -had regarded Macgregor as a mere boy, and sometimes -as a bit of a nuisance, but she was the sort -of young woman who cannot have too many strings -to her bow. “I can get ye a ticket,” she added encouragingly.</p> - -<p>For an instant it occurred to Macgregor to ask -her to let him take her to the dance—he would find -the money somehow—but the idea died in its -birth. He could not both go to the dance and do -that which he had already promised himself to do. -Besides, she might laugh at him and refuse.</p> - -<p>“It’s nae use speakin’ aboot the dance,” he said -regretfully. Then abruptly: “Yer birthday’s on -Tuesday week, is’t no’?”</p> - -<p>Jessie Mary looked at him. His eyes were on -the pavement. “Wha tell’t ye that?”</p> - -<p>“I heard ye speakin’ aboot yer birthday to somebody -at the picnic.”</p> - -<p>“My! ye’ve a memory!”</p> - -<p>“But it’s on Tuesday week—the twinty-third? -I was wantin’ to be sure.”</p> - -<p>“Weel, it’s the twinty-third, sure enough.” -She heaved an affected sigh. “Nineteen! I’m -gettin’ auld, Macgreegor. Time I was gettin’ a -lad! Eh?” She laughed at his confusion of -face. “But what for d’ye want to ken aboot ma -birthday?” she innocently enquired, becoming -graver.</p> - -<p>The ingenuousness of the question helped him.</p> - -<p>“Aw, I jist wanted to ken, Jessie Mary. Never -heed aboot it. I hope ye’ll enjoy the dance—when -it comes.” This was quite a long speech for -Macgregor to make, but it might have been even -longer had they not just then arrived at the provision -shop.</p> - -<p>“Here we are,” said she cheerfully. She had -the decency to ignore the smile of the young man -behind the counter—the young man with the sharp -nose and exquisite black moustache; nor did she -appear to notice another young man on the opposite -pavement who was also gazing quite openly -at her. “Here we are, an’ here we part—to meet -again, I hope,” she added, with a softer glance.</p> - -<p>“I’ll wait till ye’ve got yer messages,” said Macgregor, -holding his ground.</p> - -<p>She gave him her sweetest smile but one. “Na, -Macgreegor; it’ll tak’ me a while to get the messages, -an’ I’ve ither places to gang afterwards. -Maybe I’ll see ye floatin’ aroun’ anither nicht.”</p> - -<p>“But I’m no’ in a hurry. I—I wish ye wud let -me wait.”</p> - -<p>Her very sweetest smile was reserved for the -most stubborn cases, and she gave it him now. But -her voice though gentle was quite firm. “If ye -want to please me, Macgreegor, ye’ll no’ wait the -nicht.”</p> - -<p>He was conquered. She nodded kindly and entered -the doorway.</p> - -<p>“Guidbye, Jessie Mary,” he murmured, and -turned away.</p> - -<p>There were no other customers in the shop. -Jessie Mary took a seat at the counter. The young -man, stroking his moustache, gave her a good-evening -tenderly.</p> - -<p>“I’m to get to the dance,” she said, solemnly.</p> - -<p>The young man’s hand fell to his side. “Wi’ -me?” he cried, very eagerly.</p> - -<p>“I ha’ena made up ma mind yet, Peter. I want -a pair o’ kippers—the biggest ye’ve got.”</p> -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="linebox" /> -<h3 class="h3head">CHAPTER THREE</h3> -<hr /> -<p class="p2"><span class="sc">The</span> outside of the shop had been painted but -recently. Above door and window were blazoned -in large gilt letters the words:</p> - -<p class="center">STATIONERY <span class="sc lowercase">AND</span> FANCY GOODS.</p> - -<p class="unindent">Just over the doorway was very modestly printed -in white the name of the proprietor:</p> - -<p class="center sc">M. Tod.</p> - -<p>What the <em>M</em> stood for nobody knew (or cared) -unless, perhaps, the person so designated; and it is -almost conceivable that she had forgotten, considering -that for five and thirty years she had never -heard herself addressed save as Miss Tod.</p> - -<p>For five and thirty years M. Tod had kept her -shop without assistance. For five and thirty years -she had lived in the shop and its back room, rarely -going out of doors except to church on Sunday -mornings. The grocer along the way had a standing -order: practically all the necessaries of life, as -M. Tod understood them, could be supplied from -a grocer’s shop. A time had been when M. Tod -saved money; but the last ten years had witnessed -a steady shrinking of custom, a dwindling in hopes -for a peaceful, comfortable old age, a shrinking and -dwindling in M. Tod herself. A day came when -a friendly customer and gossip was startled to behold -M. Tod suddenly flop to the floor behind the -counter.</p> - -<p>A doctor, hastily summoned, brought her back to -a consciousness of her drab existence and dingy -shop. She was soon ready to go on with both as -though nothing had happened. The doctor, however, -warned her quite frankly that if she did not -take proper nourishment, moderate exercise and -abundance of fresh air, she would speedily find -herself beyond need of these things.</p> - -<p>M. Tod did not want to die, and since she never -laughed at anything she could not laugh at the -doctor. To some of us life is like a cup of bitter -physic with a lump of sugar at the bottom, but no -spoon to stir it up with; life, therefore, must be -sweet—sooner or later.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, obedience to the doctor would -involve considerable personal expenditure, not to -mention the engaging of an assistant. When M. -Tod had reckoned up the remnants of her savings -and estimated her financial position generally, she -incontinently groaned. Nevertheless, she presently -proceeded to prepare a two-line advertisement for -the <cite>Evening Express</cite>. She was still in the throes of -composition—endeavouring to say in twenty -words what she thought in two hundred—when -Mr. Baldwin, traveller for a firm of fancy-goods -merchants, entered the shop. Acquainted with his -kindly manner in the past, she ventured to confide -to him her present difficulties.</p> - -<p>Mr. Baldwin was not only sympathetic but helpful.</p> - -<p>“Why,” said he, “my niece Christina might suit -you—in fact, I’m sure she would. She is nearly -sixteen, and only yesterday finished a full course of -book-keeping. More than that, Miss Tod, she has -had experience in the trade. Her aunt before her -marriage to—er—myself—had a little business -like your own, at the coast. I had thought of getting -Christina a situation in the wholesale, but I -believe it would be better for her to be here, for a -time at least. I know she is keen on a place where -she can have her own way—I mean to say, have -room to carry out her own ideas.” Mr. Baldwin -halted in some confusion, but speedily recovered. -“Anyway,” he went on, “give her a trial. Let me -send her along to see you this evening.”</p> - -<p>M. Tod assented, possibly because she feared to -hurt the traveller’s feelings. “Nearly sixteen” -and “keen on a place where she can have her own -way” did not sound precisely reassuring to the old -woman who had no experience of young folk, and -who had been her own mistress for so long.</p> - -<p>That evening Christina came, saw and, after a -little hesitation, conquered her doubts as to the suitability -of the situation. “I’ll manage her easy,” -she said to herself while attending with the utmost -demureness to M. Tod’s recital of the duties required -of her assistant—“I’ll manage her easy.”</p> - -<p>Within six months she had made good her unuttered -words.</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>It was Saturday afternoon. M. Tod was about -to leave the shop for an airing. Time takes back -no wrinkles, yet M. Tod seemed younger than a -year ago. She had lost the withered, yellowed -complexion of those who worship continually in -the Temple of Tannin; her movements were freer; -her voice no longer fell at the end of every sentence -on a note of hopelessness. Though she had grown -some months older, she had become years less -aged. She glanced round her shop with an air of -pride.</p> - -<p>From behind the counter Christina, with a -kindly, faintly amused smile, watched her.</p> - -<p>“Ay,” remarked M. Tod, “everything looks -vera nice—vera nice, indeed, dearie. I can see -ye’ve done yer best to follow ma instructions.”</p> - -<p>It had become a habit with M. Tod to express -observations of this sort prior to going out, a habit, -also, to accept all Christina’s innovations and improvements -as originally inspired by herself. -Even the painting of the shop, which, when first -mooted by the girl, had seemed about as desirable -as an earthquake, had gradually become her very -own bright idea. Happily Christina had no difficulty -in tolerating such gentle injustices; as a matter -of fact, she preferred that her mistress should -be managed unawares.</p> - -<p>“Tak’ a squint at the window when ye gang oot,” -she said, pleasantly. “Ye ha’ena seen it since it -was dressed. There’s a heap o’ cheap trash in it, -but it’s trash that draws the public noo-a-days.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I wudna say that, dearie,” said the old -woman. “I’ve aye tried to gi’e folk guid value.”</p> - -<p>“Ay! Ma aunt was like that—near ruined -hersel’ tryin’ to gi’e the public what it didna want. -What the public wants is gorgeousness—an’ it -wants it cheap. Abyssinian Gold an’ papermashy -leather an’ so on. See thon photo-frames!”—Christina -pointed—“the best sellin’ photo-frames -ever we had! In a week or so, they get wearit -sittin’ on the mantel-piece, an’ doon they fa’ wi’ a -broken leg; in a fortnight they look as if they had -been made in the year ten B.C.! Behold thon -purses! Safer to carry yer cash in a paper poke, -but the public canna resist the real, <em>genuine</em> silver -mounts. Observe <span class="lock">thon——”</span></p> - -<p>“Weel, weel,” Miss Tod mildly interrupted, -“it’s maybe as ye say, an’ I canna deny that custom’s -improvin’. But it’s a sad pity that folk -winna buy the <span class="lock">best——”</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, let the folk pity theirsel’s—when they get -sense—an’ that’ll no’ be this year. Gi’e them what -they want, an’ never heed what they need. That’s -the motto for a shop-keeper. Come ower here for -a minute till I sort yer bonnet, or ye’ll be lossin’ -twa o’ yer grapes. I hear figs an’ onions is to be -the favourite trimmin’ next Spring. Ye could dae -wi’ a new bonnet, Miss Tod.”</p> - -<p>“So I could,” the old woman wistfully admitted -as she submitted her headgear to her assistant’s -deft fingers. “I couldna say when I got this yin.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m no’ keen on dates. But”—encouragingly—“we’ll -tak’ stock next week, an’ when -we’ve struck the half-year’s balance I’ll no’ be surprised -if ye tak’ the plunge an’ burst a pound-note -at the milliner’s.” Christina administered a final -pat to the ancient bonnet. “Noo ye’re ready for -the road. See an’ no’ catch cold. I’ll ha’e the -kettle at the bile against yer return at five.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll no’ be late,” replied M. Tod who, to tell the -truth, was already wishing it were tea-time, and -moved to the door.</p> - -<p>“I suppose,” said Christina, “ye wudna care to -call at the Reverend Mr. McTavish’s an’ politely -ask for payment o’ his account—consistin’ chiefly -o’ sermon-paper. He’s a whale for sermon-paper!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, dearie, dearie, I couldna dae that,” faltered -M. Tod, and made her escape.</p> - -<p>“If that account isna paid sune,” Christina murmured, -“I’ll ha’e to gang masel’ an’ put the fear o’ -death into the man. Business is business—even -when it’s releegious.”</p> - -<p>She looked round the shop to discover if aught -required her attention; then being satisfied that -nought could be improved, she seated herself on -the stool and prepared to do a little book-keeping.</p> - -<p>As she dipped her pen, however, the door of the -shop was slowly opened, the bell above it banged, -and a young man—so she reckoned him—came -in. In her quick way, though she had never seen -him before, she put him down in her mind as a -purchaser of a half-penny football paper. But having -recovered from the alarm of the bell and carefully -shut the door, he hesitated, surveying his surroundings.</p> - -<p>Christina flung back her thick plait of fair -hair, slipped from the stool, and came to attention.</p> - -<p>“Nice day,” she remarked in her best manner. -She contrived to get away from the vernacular in -her business dealings.</p> - -<p>“Ay,” The young man smiled absently.</p> - -<p>“Nice teeth,” thought Christina. (That Macgregor’s -teeth were good was entirely due to his -mother’s firmness in the matter of brushing them -during his younger days. He was inclined to be -proud of them now.)</p> - -<p>“Just take a look round,” she said aloud.</p> - -<p>Macgregor acknowledged the invitation with a -nod.</p> - -<p>“Was it anything special you wanted to see?” -she enquired.</p> - -<p>Macgregor regarded her for a moment. “I had -a look at yer window,” he said, his eyes wandering -once more, “but I seen naething dearer nor a -shillin’.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” exclaimed Christina. Then recovering -her dignity—“The window is merely a popular -display. We have plenty of more expensive goods -within.” She felt pleased at having said “within” -instead of “inside.”</p> - -<p>At the word “expensive” Macgregor shrank. -“Aboot half-a-croon?” he said diffidently, taking -a step towards the door.</p> - -<p>“Half-a-croon <em>and</em> upwards,” said Christina -very distinctly. As a matter of fact, the shop contained -few articles priced as high as two shillings, -the neighbourhood not being noted for its affluence; -but one of Christina’s mottoes was “First catch -your customer and then rook him.” “Oh, yes,” -she added pleasantly, “our goods at half-a-crown -are abundant.”</p> - -<p>For a moment Macgregor doubted she was laughing -at him, but a veiled glance at her earnest face -reassured him—nay, encouraged him. He had -never bought a present for a lady before, and felt -his position keenly. Indeed, he had left his home -district to make the purchase in order that he might -do so unrecognised.</p> - -<p>So with a shy, appealing smile he said:</p> - -<p>“It’s for a present.”</p> - -<p>“A present. Certainly!” she replied, lapsing a -trifle in the excitement of the moment. “Male or -female?”</p> - -<p>Macgregor gave her an honest stare.</p> - -<p>“Is it for a lady or gent?” she enquired, less -abashed by the stare than annoyed with herself for -having used the wrong phrase.</p> - -<p>“Lady,” said Macgregor, with an attempt at -boldness, and felt himself getting hot.</p> - -<p>“Will you kindly step this way?” came the polite -invitation.</p> - -<p>Macgregor proceeded to the counter and bumped -his knee against the chair that stood there.</p> - -<p>“Useful or ornamental?”</p> - -<p>“I—I dinna ken,” he answered between his -teeth.</p> - -<p>“I’ll break that chair’s neck for it some day!” -cried Christina, her natural sympathy for suffering -getting the better of her commercial instincts. -Then she coughed in her best style. “Do you -think the young lady would like something to -wear?”</p> - -<p>“I dinna ken, I’m sure.” Macgregor pushed -back his cap and scratched his head. “Let’s see -what ye’ve got for wearin’ an’—an’ no’ for -wearin’.”</p> - -<p>Christina, too, nearly scratched her head. She -was striving to think where she could lay hands on -articles for which she could reasonably charge half-a-crown.</p> - -<p>Without very noticeable delay she turned to a -drawer, and presently displayed a small green oblong -box. She opened it.</p> - -<p>“This is a nice fountain-pen,” she explained. -“Its price has been <span class="lock">reduced——”</span></p> - -<p>“Aw, I’m no’ heedin’ aboot reduced things, -thank ye a’ the same.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll make it two shillings to you,” Christina said -persuasively. “That’s a very drastic reduction.” -Which was perfectly true. On the other hand, the -pen was an old model which she had long despaired -of selling. “Nothing could be more suitable for a -young lady,” she added, exhibiting the nib. “Real -gold.”</p> - -<p>But Macgregor shook his head.</p> - -<p>With apparent cheerfulness she laid the pen aside. -“It’s for a <em>young</em> lady, I think you said?”</p> - -<p>“Ay, it’s for a young lady, but she’s no’ that -young either. Aboot ma ain age, maybe.”</p> - -<p>Christina nearly said “about twelve, I suppose,” -but refrained. She was learning to subdue her -tendency to chaff. “I perceive,” she said gravely. -“Is she fond of needlework?”</p> - -<p>“I couldna say. She’s gettin’ a pink dress, but -I think her mither’s sewin’ it for her.”</p> - -<p>“A pink dress!” muttered Christina, forgetting -herself. “Oh, Christopher Columbus!” She -turned away sharply.</p> - -<p>“Eh?”</p> - -<p>“She’ll be a brunette?” said Christina calmly, -though her cheeks were flushed.</p> - -<p>“I couldna say,” said Macgregor again.</p> - -<p>Christina brought forward a tray of glittering -things. “These combs are much worn at present,” -she informed him. “Observe the jewels.”</p> - -<p>“They’ll no’ be real,” said Macgregor doubtfully.</p> - -<p>“Well—a—no. Not exactly <em>real</em>. But everybody -weers—wears imitation jewellery nowadays. -The west-end’s full of it—chock-a-block, in fact.” -She held up a pair of combs of almost blinding -beauty. “Chaste—ninepence each.”</p> - -<p>“Ay,” sighed Macgregor, “but I’m no’ -<span class="lock">sure——”</span></p> - -<p>“Silver belt—quite the rage—one shilling.”</p> - -<p>Macgregor remembered the scarlet belt at the -picnic. He had a vague vision of a gift of his in -its place. He held out his hand for the glittering -object.</p> - -<p>“You don’t happen to know the size of the -lady’s waist?” said Christina in a most discreet -tone of voice.</p> - -<p>“I couldna say.” He laid down the belt, but -kept looking at it.</p> - -<p>“Excuse me,” she said softly, lifting the belt -and fastening it round her waist. She was wearing -a navy skirt and a scarlet flannel shirt, with a white -collar and black tie. “My waist is just about medium.” -She proceeded to put the combs in her -hair. “Of course they would look better on a -brunette.” She permitted herself the faintest of -smiles. “But you can see how they look when -they’re being worn.”</p> - -<p>as there a hint of mockery in the bright grey-blue -eyes? Macgregor did not observe it; nor was -he shocked by the crudity and gaudiness of the -ornaments in broad daylight. But perhaps the general -effect was not so shocking. Christina, having -previously experimented with the ornaments, had -a pretty good idea of how they appeared upon her. -It would be difficult to describe precisely what Macgregor -thought just then, but it is to be feared that -he made the sudden and unexpected discovery that -Jessie Mary was not the only pretty girl in the -world.</p> - -<p>“I’ll tak’ them,” he said uneasily, and put his -hand in his pocket.</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” said Christina. “Will that be -all to-day?”</p> - -<p>“Ay; that’ll be a’.” He had purposed spending -the odd penny of his fund on a birthday card, but -for some undefinable reason let the coin fall back -into his pocket.</p> - -<p>Christina proceeded to make a neat parcel. -“You’re a stranger here,” she remarked pleasantly.</p> - -<p>“Ay. But I dinna live far awa’.” Now that -the ordeal was over, he was feeling more at ease. -“Ye’ve a nice shop, miss.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think so? I’m very glad you got -something to suit you in it. Thank you! Half-a-crown—two-and-six -exactly. <em>Good</em> afternoon!”</p> - -<p>It may be that Macgregor would have stopped to -make a remark or two on his own account, but -just then an elderly woman entered the shop.</p> - -<p>“Guidbye, Miss,” he murmured, touching his -cap, and departed with his purchase.</p> - -<p>Christina dropped the silver into the till. To -herself she said: “I doobt he’s no’ as green as -he’s cabbage-lookin’.” Aloud: “Nice day, Mrs. -Dunn. Is your little grandson quite well again?”</p> -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="linebox" /> -<h3 class="h3head">CHAPTER FOUR</h3> -<hr /> -<p class="p2"><span class="sc">For</span> some weeks Macgregor had nourished an -idea of making the birthday presentation with his -own hands. In fancy he had beheld his own gallant -proffering of the gifts, and Jessie Mary’s shy -acceptance of the same. Why he should have -foreseen himself bold and Jessie Mary bashful is -a question that may be left to those who have the -profound insight necessary to diagnose the delicate -workings of a youthful and lovelorn imagination. -At the same time he had harboured many hopeful -fears and fearful hopes, but to divulge these in detail -would be sacrilege.</p> - -<p>On the day following the purchase of the gifts, -however, his original plan, so simple and straightforward, -would seem to have lost something of its -attractiveness. Perhaps he was suddenly assailed -by the cowardice of modesty; possibly he argued, -in effect, that the offering would gain in importance -by impersonal delivery. At all events, he endeavoured, -on the way to church, to borrow from Willie -Thomson the sum of threepence—the charge for -delivery demanded by a heartless post-office. Unfortunately -Willie’s finances just then were in a -most miserable state, so much so that on this very -morning he had been compelled to threaten his -aunt, with whom and on whom he lived, with the -awful vow never to enter a church again unless she -supplied him with twopence on the spot. (This, -of course, in addition to the customary penny for -“the plate.”)</p> - -<p>He jingled the coins in his pocket while he confided -to Macgregor his tale of a hard world, and -continued to do so while he waited for the sympathy -which past experience of his friend led him -to expect.</p> - -<p>It was therefore something of a shock to Willie -when Macgregor, privately fondling the penny -which he had not spent on a birthday card, replied: -“I could manage wi’ the tuppence, Wullie. An’ -I’ll pay ye back on Seturday, sure.”</p> - -<p>“Eh?” Willie stopped jingling and clutched -his coins tightly.</p> - -<p>Macgregor repeated his words hopefully.</p> - -<p>“Aw, but I canna len’ ye the tuppence,” said -Willie, almost resentfully; adding, “But I’ll gi’e -ye a ceegarette or twa when I buy some.”</p> - -<p>“I’m no’ wantin’ yer ceegarettes,” Macgregor returned, -his eyes on the pavement.</p> - -<p>Willie shot at him a curious glance. “What for -d’ye want the tuppence? Ha’e ye been bettin’ on -horses?”</p> - -<p>For a moment Macgregor was tempted to plead -guilty of that or any other crime on the chance of -gaining the other’s sympathies and pence. Instead, -however, he answered with caution: “I’ll maybe -tell ye, if ye’ll len’ me the tuppence.”</p> - -<p>Willie laughed. “I’m no’ sae green. Ye best -get yer fayther to gi’e ye the money.”</p> - -<p>“Clay up!” snapped Macgregor, and remained -silent for the rest of the journey.</p> - -<p>Had the money been required for any other object -in the world, Macgregor would probably have -gone straightway to his father and frankly asked -for it. But the limits of confidence between son -and parent are reached when the subject is a girl. -Nevertheless, it was to the boy’s credit that he -never dreamed of attempting to obtain his father’s -help under false pretences.</p> - -<p>That night he came to the dismal decision to -deliver the package himself at Jessie Mary’s door, -at an hour when Jessie Mary would be certain to -be out. There was nothing else for it, as far as -he could see just then.</p> - -<p>The following morning’s light found him at his -work—no longer, alas! in the far west-end with -its windfall of pennies for the car, but in the heart -of the city. The man under whom he worked -found him so slow and stupid that he threatened to -report him to his employer. Altogether it was a -dreary day, and Macgregor, who usually paid -enough attention to his duties to escape the burden -of time, was more than glad when the last working -hour had dragged to its close.</p> - -<p>He went home by an unaccustomed though not -entirely unfamiliar route. It led him past the shop -wherein he had made the birthday purchases on -Saturday afternoon. The window was more -brightly illuminated than the majority of its neighbours; -the garish contents were even more attractive -than in daylight. Macgregor found himself -regarding them with a half-hearted interest. -Presently he noticed that one of the sliding glass -panels at the back of the window was open a few -inches. This aperture permitted him to see the following: -A hand writing a letter on a sloping desk, -a long plait of fair hair over a scarlet shoulder, -and a youthful profile with an expression very much -in earnest yet cheerful withal.</p> - -<p>Macgregor could not help watching the writer, -and he continued to do so for several minutes with -increasingly lively interest. He was even wondering -to whom the letter might be written, when the -writer, having dipped her pen too deeply, made a -horrid, big blot. She frowned and for an instant -put out her tongue. Then, having regarded the -blot for a space with a thoughtful gaze, she seized -the pen and with a few deft touches transformed -the blot into the semblance of a black beetle. -Whereupon she smiled with such transparent delight -that Macgregor smiled also.</p> - -<p>“What are ye grinnin’ at?” said a voice at his -elbow.</p> - -<p>He turned to discover Willie Thomson. At no -time in the whole course of their friendship had he -felt a keener desire to hit Willie on his impudent -nose. “Naething,” he muttered shortly. “Are -ye gaun hame?”</p> - -<p>“Ay,” said Willie, noting the other’s discomposure, -but not referring to it directly. “This isna -yer usual road hame.”</p> - -<p>“Depends whaur I’m comin’ frae,” returned -Macgregor, quickening his pace. “Ha’e ye got a -job yet, Wullie?” he enquired more graciously.</p> - -<p>“I tried yin the day, but it’s no’ gaun to suit me. -But I’ve earned ninepence. I can len’ ye thon -thruppence, if ye like.”</p> - -<p>“Aw, I’m no’ needin’ it noo.”</p> - -<p>“Weel, ha’e a ceegarette.” Willie produced a -yellow packet.</p> - -<p>“Na, I’m no’ smokin’, Wullie.”</p> - -<p>“What’s wrang wi’ ye?”</p> - -<p>“Naething.... What sort of job was ye -tryin’?”</p> - -<p>Willie told him, and thereafter proceeded to recount -as many grievances as there had been hours in -his working day. Macgregor encouraged him to -enter into all sorts of detail, so that home was -reached without reference to the shop window -which had caused him amusement.</p> - -<p>“So long,” said Willie, lighting a fresh cigarette. -“Maybe see ye later.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, it’s likely,” Macgregor replied, and turned -into the close, glad to escape.</p> - -<p>“Haud on!” cried Willie.</p> - -<p>“What?” Macgregor halted with reluctance.</p> - -<p>Willie sniggered. “I seen ye wi’ Jessie Mary -the ither nicht.”</p> - -<p>“Did ye?” retorted Macgregor feebly.</p> - -<p>“Ay; an’ if I was you, I wud let girls alane. -They’re nae fun, an’ they’re awfu’ expensive.”</p> - -<p>With which sage advice Willie walked off.</p> - -<p>Macgregor made up his mind not to leave the -house that evening, yet eight o’clock found him at -the foot of the street wherein Jessie Mary lived. -But he did not go up the street, and at the end of -five minutes he strolled the way he had taken two -hours earlier. As he approached a certain shop the -light in its window went out. He marched home -quickly, looking neither right nor left.</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>On the following evening he hired a small boy -for the sum of one halfpenny to deliver the package -to Jessie Mary at her abode, and straightway returned -to the parental fireside, where he blushed at -the welcome accorded him.</p> - -<p>That night, however, fate willed it that John -Robinson should run out of tobacco. Macgregor, -who had been extremely restless, expressed himself -ready to step down to the tobacco shop in the main -street.</p> - -<p>Here it must be mentioned that the gifts had -reached Jessie Mary at precisely the right moment. -They had raised her spirits from the depths of despair -to at least the lower heights of hope. Only an -hour before their arrival she had learned how the -young man with the exquisite moustache had -treacherously invited another young lady to accompany -him to the Ironmongers’ dance; and although -to the ordinary mind this may appear to have been -the simple result of a lack of superhuman patience -on the young man’s part, Jessie Mary could perceive -in it nothing but the uttermost perfidy. So -that until the arrival of Macgregor’s present—“to -J. M. from M. with best wishes” (an “l” had -been scraped out where the second “w” now -stood)—she had felt like tearing the pink frock -to tatters and preparing for the tomb.</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>They met near the tobacconist’s—on Macgregor’s -home side, by the way—and he could not -have looked more guilty had he sent her an infernal -machine.</p> - -<p>“It was awful kind o’ ye,” she said sweetly; -“jist <em>awful</em> kind.”</p> - -<p>“Aw, it was naething,” he stammered.</p> - -<p>“They’re jist lovely, an’ that fashionable,” she -went on, and gradually led the conversation to the -subject of the United Ironmongers’ dance.</p> - -<p>“Ye should come,” she said, “an’ see hoo nice I -look wi’ them on. The belt’ll be lovely wi’ ma pink -frock. An’ the combs was surely made for black -hair like mines. Of course I tried them on the -minute I got them.”</p> - -<p>“Did ye?” murmured Macgregor. Where was -all the feverish joy, the soft rapture anticipated -three nights ago? “Did ye?”—that was all he -said.</p> - -<p>She made allowance for his youth and the bashfulness -she had so often experienced. “Macgreegor,” -she whispered, slipping her hand through -his arm, in the darkness of the street leading to her -home, “Macgreegor, I believe I wud suner dance -wi’ you than onybody else.”</p> - -<p>Macgregor seemed to have nothing to say. The -touch of her hand was pleasant, and yet he was -uneasy.</p> - -<p>“Macgreegor,” she said presently, a little breathlessly, -“I’m no’ heedin’ aboot ony o’ the chaps that -wants to tak’ me to the dance. If ye had a -ticket——” She paused. They had halted in the -close-mouth, as it is locally termed. “I’m sayin’, -Macgreegor, if ye had a ticket——” She paused -again.</p> - -<p>The boy felt foolish and wretched. “But I -canna gang to the dance, Jessie Mary,” he managed -to say.</p> - -<p>She leaned closer to him. “It’ll be a splendid -dance—at least”—she looked at him boldly—“it -wud be splendid if you and me was gaun thegether.”</p> - -<p>In his wildest of wild dreams he may have -thought of kissing this girl. He might have done -it now—quite easily.</p> - -<p>But he didn’t—he couldn’t.</p> - -<p>“Na; I canna gang,” he said. “An’—an’ ma -fayther’ll be waitin’ for his tobacco. Guidnicht.” -He glanced at her with a miserable smile, and departed—bolted.</p> - -<p>Poor Jessie Mary with her little natural vanities!</p> - -<p>Poor Macgregor! He went home hot and -ashamed—he could not have told why. He did -not grudge the gifts, yet vaguely wished he had not -given them.</p> - -<p>And he dreamed that night of, among other queer -things, a shop window, a plait of fair hair on a -scarlet shoulder, and a black beetle.</p> -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="linebox" /> -<h3 class="h3head">CHAPTER FIVE</h3> -<hr /> -<p class="p2"><span class="sc">“Mercy</span>, laddie!” exclaimed Mrs. Robinson, as -her son entered the kitchen, a little late for tea. -“What ha’e ye been daein’ to yer face?”</p> - -<p>The colour induced by the question seemed -almost to extinguish the hectic spot at Macgregor’s -left cheek-bone.</p> - -<p>“Washin’ it,” he answered shortly, taking his -accustomed chair.</p> - -<p>“But it’s cut.”</p> - -<p>“Tits, Lizzie!” muttered Mr. Robinson. “Are -ye for toast, Macgreegor?”</p> - -<p>“He’s been shavin’ his whiskers,” said Jimsie. -“Did ye no’ ken Macgreegor’s gettin’ whiskers, -Maw?” he went on in spite of a warning pressure -from sister Jeannie. “Paw, what way dae folk -get whiskers?”</p> - -<p>“Dear knows,” returned his father briefly. -“Lizzie, can ye no’ gi’e Macgreegor a cup o’ tea?”</p> - -<p>Lizzie lifted the cosy from the brown teapot. -“Where did ye get the razor, Macgreegor?”</p> - -<p>“He hasna got a razor, Maw,” said Jimsie. -“He does it wi’ a wee knife.”</p> - -<p>“Shurrup!” Macgreegor growled, whereupon -Jimsie choked and his eyes filled with tears.</p> - -<p>“Macgreegor,” said his mother, “that’s no’ the -way to speak to yer wee brither.”</p> - -<p>“Macgreegor,” said his sister, “I’ll mak’ ye a bit -o’ hot toast, if ye like.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, Jeannie,” said John quickly, “mak’ him -a bit o’ hot toast, an’ I’ll look after Jimsie.” He -turned the conversation to the subject of a great -vessel that had been launched into the Clyde that -morning.</p> - -<p>Sullenly Macgregor took the cup from his -mother’s hand and forthwith devoted his attention -to his meal. Seldom had resentment taken such -possession of his soul. Another word from his -mother or Jimsie, and he would have retorted -violently and flung out of the room. The mild intervention -of his sister and father had saved a -scene. Though his face cooled, his heart remained -hot; though hungry, he ate little, including the -freshly made toast, which he accepted with a gracelessness -that probably shamed him even more than -it hurt Jeannie. Poor sensitive, sulky youth!—a -hedge-hog with its skin turned outside-in could not -suffer more.</p> - -<p>For the first time in the course of his married -life John Robinson really doubted Lizzie’s discretion. -It was with much diffidence, however, that -he referred to the matter after Macgregor had -gone out, and while Jeannie was superintending -Jimsie’s going to bed.</p> - -<p>“Lizzie,” he began, eyeing his cold pipe, “did -ye happen to notice that Macgreegor was a wee -thing offended the nicht?”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Robinson did not halt in her business of -polishing a bread plate. “Macgreegor’s gettin’ -ower easy offended,” she said, carelessly enough.</p> - -<p>John struck a match and held it without application -to his pipe until the flame scorched his hardened -fingers. “Speakin’ frae experience,” he said -slowly, “there’s twa things that a young man tak’s -vera serious-like. The <span class="lock">first——”</span></p> - -<p>“Wha’s the young man?”</p> - -<p>“Macgreegor.... Aw, Lizzie!”</p> - -<p>“Macgreegor’s a laddie.”</p> - -<p>“He’s a young man—an’ fine ye ken it, wife!”</p> - -<p>Lizzie put down the plate and took up another. -“An’ what does he tak’ serious-like?” she -enquired, coolly.</p> - -<p>“Firstly,” said John, with a great effort, and -stuck.</p> - -<p>“Ye’ll be preachin’ a sermon directly,” said she. -“Can ye no’ licht yer pipe an’ speak nateral?”</p> - -<p>“Hoo can I speak nateral when I ken ye’re -makin’ a mock o’ me?”</p> - -<p>“Havers, man!” she said, becoming good-humoured -lest he should lose his temper; “licht yer -pipe. I’m listenin’.”</p> - -<p>John lit his pipe in exceedingly methodical -fashion. “Weel, Lizzie,” he began at last, “I jist -wanted to say that when a young man’s gettin’ hair -on his face, ye—ye shouldna notice it.”</p> - -<p>“I didna notice it.”</p> - -<p>“Weel, ye shouldna refer to it.”</p> - -<p>“It was the cut I referred to.”</p> - -<p>John sucked at his pipe and scratched his head. -“That’s true,” he admitted. “Still, if yer sister -had a wudden leg, ye wudna refer to the noise on -the stair. It wasna like ye, Lizzie, to hurt Macgreegor’s -feelin’s.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Robinson put down the plate with an unusual -clatter. Hurt Macgreegor’s feelings!—She?—The -idea! “Are ye feenished?” she snapped.</p> - -<p>John nerved himself. “There’s anither thing -that it’s best no’ to refer to—anither thing that a -young man tak’s vera serious-like. When a young -man begins to tak’ an interest in the <span class="lock">lassies——”</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, man, can ye no stop haverin’?” she cried. -“Ha’e ye forgot the laddie’s age?”</p> - -<p>“It’s the shavin’ age, an’ that <span class="lock">means——”</span></p> - -<p>“Ma brither Rubbert was nineteen afore he put -a razor to his face.”</p> - -<p>“Yer brither Rubbert was never what I wud -ca’ a female fancier. Of course that wasna his -fau’t; he was jist as the Lord made him, and he’s -turned oot a vera successful man, an’ for a’ we ken -his wife Sarah’s maybe better nor she’s bonny. -But yer son <span class="lock">Macgreegor——”</span></p> - -<p>“Macgreegor wud never look at the lassies. -He’s ower shy.”</p> - -<p>“Whiles it’s the kind that doesna look that leaps -the furdest. But there’s waur things in the world -nor razors and lassies,” said John, with a feeble -laugh, “an’ I jist wanted to warn ye no’ to ask -questions, even though ye should see Macgreegor -weerin’ his Sunday tie every nicht in the week! I -hope ye’re no’ offended, Lizzie.”</p> - -<p>But it is to be feared that Lizzie was offended -just then. She had not been the better half for -eighteen years without knowing it; she had grown -to expect her easy-going husband’s cheerful acquiescence -in practically all she did, and to regard -her acceptance of his most mild remonstrances as -a sort of favour. And now he was actually giving -her advice concerning her treatment of her firstborn! -It was too much for her pride.</p> - -<p>She set her mouth in a hard line, threw up her -head, and proceeded with her polishing.</p> - -<p>John waited for a couple of minutes, then sighed -and took up his evening paper.</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>Meanwhile Macgregor was having his troubles. -He contrived to dodge Willie Thomson, who nowadays -seemed always to be where he was not -wanted, but the operation involved a <em>detour</em> of -nearly a quarter of a mile, in the course of which -he was held up by another youth of his acquaintance. -Ten minutes were wasted in listening with -ill-concealed impatience to fatuous observations -on the recent play of certain professional footballers, -and then he continued his journey only to -fall, metaphorically speaking, into the arms of -Jessie Mary emerging from a shop.</p> - -<p>“Hullo, Mac! I thought ye was deid!” was -her blithe greeting, the “sausage roll” phrase -having at long last served its day. “Ye’re in a -hurry,” she added, “but so am I, so ye can walk -back to the corner wi’ me.”</p> - -<p>Macgregor mumbled something to the effect that -he was in no special hurry, and, possibly in order -to give a touch of truth to his falsehood, turned -and accompanied her.</p> - -<p>“Ye’ve no’ been gi’ein’ the girls a treat lately,” -she remarked. “I ha’ena noticed ye floatin’ -aroun’. Ha’e ye been keepin’ the hoose at nicht?”</p> - -<p>“Whiles,” he replied, and enquired with some -haste, “Hoo did ye enjoy the dance last week, -Jessie?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, dinna mention it!” she cried, with a toss -of her head. “I didna gang to it.”</p> - -<p>“Ye didna gang to the dance!”</p> - -<p>“If I had went, it wud ha’e meant bloodshed,” -she impressively informed him. “Ye see, there -was twa chaps implorin’ me to gang wi’ them, an’ -they got that fierce aboot it that I seen it wudna -ha’e been safe to gang wi’ either. A riot in a -ballroom is no’ a nice thing. An’ if I had went wi’ -a third party, it wud ha’e been as much as <em>his</em> life -was worth. So I jist bided at hame.”</p> - -<p>Macgregor began, but was not allowed to complete, -a sympathetic remark.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I was glad I didna gang. The dance -turned oot to be a second-rate affair entirely—no’ -half-a-dizzen shirt fronts in the comp’ny. An’ I -believe there wasna three o’ the men could dance -for nuts, an’ the refreshments was rotten.”</p> - -<p>They had now reached the appointed corner.</p> - -<p>“Jist as weel ye didna gang, then,” absently said -Macgregor, halting.</p> - -<p>“Come up to the close,” said Jessie Mary. -“I’ve something to show ye. Ay; it was jist as -weel, as ye say. But there’s a champion dance -comin’ off on the nineteenth o’ November—the -young men o’ the hosiery department are gettin’ -it up—naething second-rate aboot <em>it</em>. Ye should -come to it, Macgreegor.” She touched his arm—unintentionally -perhaps. “Plenty o’ pretty girls—though -I wudna guarantee their dancin’. I’ve -no’ decided yet wha I’ll gang wi’.” She paused. -Macgregor did not speak. “Ye see, I’m parteec’lar -wha I dance wi’,” she went on softly, “an’ I -expec’ you’re the same. Some girls are like bags -o’ flour an’ ithers are like telegraph poles, but -there’ll be few o’ that sort at the hosiery dance. -An’ onyway”—she laughed—“ye could aye fa’ -back on <em>this</em> girl—eh?”</p> - -<p>“I dinna think ye wud be that hard up for a -partner,” said Macgregor, suddenly stimulated by -a flash of her eyes in the lamplight. “But I’m no’ -awfu’ keen on the dancin’.”</p> - -<p>“Ye danced fine when ye was a wee laddie. I -mind when ye danced the Highland Fling in the -kitchen, on Hogmanay. That was the nicht I had -to kiss ye to get ye oot o’ the ring. Ye was ower -shy to kiss me. An’ you an’ Wullie Thomson -started the fightin’, because he laughed. D’ye -mind?”</p> - -<p>“That’s an auld story,” he said, with embarrassment.</p> - -<p>“I suppose it is,” she admitted reluctantly. -Then cheerfully: “Weel, here we are! But wait -till I let ye see something.” She halted at the mouth -of the close and began to unbutton her jacket.</p> - -<p>“Ye’ve never seen the belt since ye gi’ed it to -me, Macgreegor. I weer it whiles in the evenin’. -There ye are! It looks fine, does it no’? Maybe -a wee thing wide. I could dae wi’ it an inch or twa -tighter. Feel.”</p> - -<p>She took his hand and slid his fingers between -the metal and the white cotton blouse. Jessie -Mary had at least one quite admirable characteristic: -she doted on white garments and took pride -in their spotlessness. A very elemental sense for -the beautiful, yet who dare despise it? In these -grimy days purity of any kind is great gain.</p> - -<p>This girl’s hunger for the homage and admiration -of the other sex was not so much abnormal as -unrestrained. Her apparent lack of modesty was -in reality a superabundance of simplicity—witness -her shallow artifices and transparent little dishonesties -which deceived few save herself and the -callowest of youths. Men “took their fun off -her.” And even Macgregor was not to be entrapped -now. There is nothing so dead as the -fallen fancy of a boy. Moreover, Macgregor was -still at the stage when a girl’s face is her whole -fortune, when the trimmest waist and the prettiest -curves are no assets whatsoever.</p> - -<p>For a moment or two he fingered the belt, awkwardly, -to be sure, but with as much emotion as -though it were a dog’s collar.</p> - -<p>“Ay,” he said, “ye’re ower jimp for it.” And -put his hand in his pocket.</p> - -<p>Then, indeed, it was forced on Jessie Mary that -somehow her charms had failed to hold her -youngest admirer. The knowledge rankled. Yet -she carried it off fairly well.</p> - -<p>“Ye’re no’ the first to tell me I’ve an extra sma’ -waist,” she said, with a toss of her head. Then, -as if struck by a remembrance of some duty or -engagement: “But I’ve nae mair time to stan’ -gassin’ wi’ you. So long!” She ran briskly up -the stone stair, humming a popular tune.</p> - -<p>“So long,” returned Macgregor, and resumed -his interrupted journey, rather pleased than otherwise -with himself. He realised, though not in so -many words, that he had conducted himself in -more manly fashion than ever before. It did not -for a moment occur to him that he had left a big -“Why?” behind him, not only in the mind of -Jessie Mary, but in Willie Thomson’s also.</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>His pilgrimage ended at the illuminated window -of M. Tod’s stationery and fancy goods shop. -Jingling the few coppers in his pockets, he appeared -to be deliberating a weighty problem of extensive -purchases, while, as a matter of fact, he inwardly -debated the most profitable ways of wasting a -penny. While he would now gladly have given all -he possessed—to wit, ninepence—to win a smile -from the girl with the scarlet blouse and the ripe-corn-yellow -pigtail, he was not prepared to -squander more than he could help for the benefit -of her employer. The opaque panels at the back -of the window were closed, the door of the shop -was composed chiefly of ground glass; wherefore -he had no inkling as to which person he was likely -to encounter at the receipt of custom. He was -hoping and waiting for a customer to enter the -shop, so that he might gain a glimpse of the interior -with the opening of the door, when suddenly the -lights in the window were lowered. Evidently it -was near to closing time.</p> - -<p>Hastily deciding to “burst” the sum of one -penny on the purchase of a pencil—an article for -which he had more respect than use—he entered -the doorway and turned the handle. He had forgotten -the spring bell. When he pushed the door -inwards, it “struck one”—right from the -shoulder, so to speak. Who will assert that the -ordinary healthy youth has no nerves? ’Tis a -hoggishly healthy youth who does not bustle with -them. The sturdy Macgregor wavered on the -threshold; and as he wavered he heard behind him -a badly stifled guffaw.</p> - -<p>Next moment a hearty push in the small of the -back propelled him into the shop. With a hot -countenance he pulled up, guessing who had pushed -him, and strove to look as if this were his usual -mode of entering a place of business. In his confusion -he missed the quick glance of the girl -seated at the desk on the window-end of the -counter. Her head was bent low over her writing. -He noticed, however, that she was wearing -a white blouse—which did not remind him of -Jessie Mary—and that she had a scarlet bow at -her neck.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir?” A mouse-like human being slipped -from the back of the shop to the middle point -of the counter. “Yes, sir?” it repeated, with an -accent on the query. The girl at the desk took no -notice.</p> - -<p>Macgregor approached. “I was wantin’ a -pencil,” he said in the tone of one requesting a pint -of prussic acid.</p> - -<p>“A pencil!” exclaimed the mouse-like human -being, as though she had a dim recollection of -hearing of such a thing long, long ago. “A -pencil—oh, certainly,” she added, more hopefully.</p> - -<p>“Penny or ha’penny,” murmured the girl at the -desk.</p> - -<p>“Penny or ha’penny?” demanded the mouse-like -human being, almost pertly.</p> - -<p>Men didn’t expect change out of a penny! “A -penny yin,” said Macgregor with an attempt at -indifference. He tried to look at the girl, but -could not get his eyes higher than her elbow.</p> - -<p>“A penny pencil!” The mouse-like human -being assumed an expression suitable to a person -who has just discovered the precise situation of -the North Pole, but not the Pole itself.</p> - -<p>“Top drawer on your left, Miss Tod,” whispered -the girl at the desk.</p> - -<p>“Quite so, Christina,” Miss Tod replied with -dignity. There were times when she might have -been accused of copying her assistant’s manners. -She opened the drawer, which was a deep one, -peered into it, groped, and brought forth three -bundles of pencils. With sudden mildness she -enquired of the girl: “These?... Those?”</p> - -<p>“No; them!” said Christina, forgetting her -grammar and grabbing the third bundle. “Wait -a minute.” She slipped lightly from her stool and -gently edged M. Tod from the position at the -counter which had been familiar to the latter for -five-and-thirty years. “This,” she said to Macgregor, -laying the bundle in front of him, “is a -special line. One dozen—price threepence.” -She looked over his head in a manner suggesting -that it was quite immaterial to her whether he purchased -the dozen or faded away on the spot.</p> - -<p>But he had his dignity too. Producing three -pennies from two pockets, he laid them on the -counter, took up the bundle of pencils, said -“Thank ye” to nobody in particular, and marched -out. Nor did he forget to close the door behind -him.</p> - -<p>The stationer and her assistant regarded each -other for several seconds.</p> - -<p>“Dae ye think,” said M. Tod slowly, “that that -young man is a newspaper reporter?”</p> - -<p>“No,” replied Christina, with a sniff or two of -her straight little nose.</p> - -<p>“Or a pictur’ artist?” said M. Tod, conveying -the two bundles to the wrong drawer.</p> - -<p>Christina, without a word, recovered them and -put them into their proper places. She mounted -her stool and whipped up a pen.</p> - -<p>M. Tod sighed. “I never used to keep pencils -at that price. They canna be vera guid.”</p> - -<p>“They’re rotten.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, lassie!”</p> - -<p>“Sell—or gang bankrupt,” said Christina with -enough bitter cynicism for twenty-one. “There’s -a penny profit on the bundle. <em>Ex</em>—cuse me.” -She dipped her pen.</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>As Macgregor was nearing his home, a prey to -misery and wroth, a grinning face popped from a -close-mouth.</p> - -<p>“Haw! haw! Macgreegor! So ye’re courtin’, -are ye?”</p> - -<p>As the clock incontinently strikes when the hour -has come, so struck Macgregor. And he struck so -hard, that it was afterwards necessary he should -see Willie Thomson to the latter’s door. Alone -again, he cast the bundle of pencils into a dark -entry and made his way home.</p> - -<p>His father opened the door, smiling a welcome. -“Weel, <span class="lock">Macgreegor——”</span></p> - -<p>“I’m wearied,” said the boy, and passed straightway -to his room and bolted the door. Jimsie was -sleeping like a log, and was, as usual, occupying -most of the bed.</p> - -<p>Macgregor stood at the old chest of drawers that -served as dressing-table, his elbows planted thereon, -his face in his hands. He <em>was</em> wearied.</p> - -<p>But under his tired eyes lay a small oblong package -with a covering of newspaper. The neatness -of it made him think of his mother; she had a way -of making next to nothing look something -important in a parcel.</p> - -<p>Presently, wondering a little, he undid the paper.</p> - -<p>It contained one of his father’s old razors.</p> - -<p>Five minutes later he was enjoying a <em>real</em> shave. -The luxury was only exceeded by the importance -he felt! And only two cuts that bled worth -mentioning....</p> - -<p>How one’s life may be changed in two short hours!</p> - -<p>But Macgregor was still without regret for -having flung the pencils into the dark entry.</p> -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="linebox" /> -<h3 class="h3head">CHAPTER SIX</h3> -<hr /> -<p class="p2"><span class="sc">Circumstance</span> rather than circumspection was -accountable for the fact that Macgregor followed -the elusive, winding trail of love alone. The -tender adventures of our ’teens usually consist in -encounters between two boys and two girls; two -friends who tacitly admit that they want to meet -the girls; two friends who pretend that they do not -want to see the boys at any distance; and to sum -up, two pairs of young human beings with but a -single thought—themselves. Also it may happen, -now and then, that for lack of likelier company -Prince Charming goes hunting with Master Fathead, -while Princess Lilian Rose lays the scent -along with Miss Gooseberry, which but adds -plausibility to the assumption that neither sex has -the courage of its inclinations. For to be honest, -there is no cowardice like that of lad’s love; no -hypocrisy like that of lass’s. But, surely, you remember! -And if so it happened that in your own -day you, perforce, fared solitary to the chase, you -will sympathise all the more with the unheroic hero -of this slight record.</p> - -<p>In this respect Macgregor was not fortunate in -his male friends. The oldest thereof, Willie -Thomson, openly contemned the female sex, not -omitting his aunt; the others confined their gallantries -to the breezy pastimes of pushing girls off -the sidewalk, bawling pleasantries after them, and -guffawing largely at their own wit or the feminine -<em>repartee</em>. Their finer instincts were doubtless still -dormant. The only mortals worthy of respect -were sundry more or less prominent personages -whose feet or fists were their fortunes. In these -days the adoration of the active by the inert is, one -hopes, at its zenith of inflation. Again, to put it -now in metaphor, Macgregor’s friends could do -with a brass band in scarlet uniform all the time, -but they had no use for a secret orchestra of muted -strings. All of which was perfectly natural—just -as natural as Macgregor’s inexplicable -preference for the secret orchestra. Spring comes -early or late; the calendar neither foretells nor -records its coming. A lad and a lass—how and -when and why the one first realises that the other -is more than a mere human being are questions -without answers. Well, it is a mercy that the -world still holds something that cannot be explained -away.</p> - -<p>In one sense this boy was no more refined than -his neighbours; in another they were coarser than -he. Remains the fact that he followed the trail -alone—or thought he did.</p> - -<p>Willie Thomson, for one, was interested. He -had been interested to the extent of grinning in -Macgregor’s early tenderness for little Katie, and -to the extent of sniggering in his friend’s bashful -pursuit of Jessie Mary. But now the interest was -that of the boy who discovers a nest just beyond -his hand and wonders what sort of eggs he will -get if, somehow, he can reach it. On the whole, -Willie resented his swollen nose and cut lip less -than the recent ill-disguised attempts to avoid his -company. The latter rankled. Truth to tell, -without Macgregor he was rather a lonely creature, -a kind of derelict. No one really wanted him. -He was not without acquaintances, shirkers like -himself; but in the congregation of loafers is no -true comradeship. Without admitting it even to -himself, he still admired the boy who had faithfully -championed his cause—not always virtuous—in -the past, whose material possessions he had -invariably shared, whose stolid sense of honour -had so often puzzled his own mischievous mind, -whose home he had envied despite a certain furtive -dread of the woman who ruled there. Altogether -it may be questioned whether Willie’s grudge was -directed against his old friend and not against that -which had caused his old friend’s defection. At -all events, he began to spare Macgregor any -necessity for dodging, and took to shadowing him -on his solitary strolls.</p> - -<p>On the grey Saturday afternoon of the week -rendered so eventful by his first real shave, Macgregor -was once more standing by the window of -M. Tod’s shop. He was endeavouring to prop up -his courage with the recollection of the fact that a -fortnight ago, at the same hour as the present, -there had been no old woman behind the counter, -and with the somewhat rash deduction that no old -woman was there now.</p> - -<p>He was also wondering what he could buy for a -penny without making a fool of himself. The -spending of a penny when there is absolutely -nothing one wants to buy is not quite so simple a -transaction as at first thought it may seem—unless, -of course, the shop is packed with -comestibles; and even then one may hesitate to -choose. Besides, Macgregor was obsessed by the -memory of the pencil transaction of three nights -ago. Had he but kept his head then, and confined -his purchase to a single pencil, he might now have -had a fair excuse for requiring another. At any -rate, he could have met suspicion with the explanation -that he had lost the first. But who would -believe that he had used, or lost, a whole dozen -within the brief space of three days?</p> - -<p>A wretched position to be in, for nothing else in -the world of stationery was quite so natural and -easy to ask for as a pencil—unless a—— Why -had he not thought of it before?—a pen! Saved! -He would enter boldly, as one who had every right -to do so, and demand to be shown some pencils—no, -pens, of course. There were many varieties -of pens, he knew, even in small shops, so his selection -would take time—lots of time! If only he -were <em>sure</em> the old woman wasn’t there.</p> - -<p>And just then the bell rang, the door of the shop -opened and closed, and the old woman herself -came out. In spite of her hat Macgregor recognised -her at once. She turned her face skywards -to make certain that it wasn’t raining, gave a -satisfied smirk, which Macgregor accepted with a -fearful start, though it was intended for the -window and its contents, and trotted up the street.</p> - -<p>On the wave of relief, as it were, Macgregor -was carried from the window to the entrance. Yet -he had no sooner opened the door with its disconcerting -note of warning than he wished he had -delayed a minute or two longer. To retire, -however, was out of the question. He closed the -door as though he were afraid of wakening a -baby, and faced the counter.</p> - -<p>The girl was there, and wearing the scarlet -blouse again. Laying aside the magazine which -she had just picked up, she smiled coldly and said -calmly: “Good-afternoon. Nice day after the -rain.”</p> - -<p>In mentally rehearsing his entrance the previous -night Macgregor had, among other things, seen -himself raise his brand-new bowler hat. To his -subsequent shame and regret, he now omitted to -perform the little courtesy. That he should forget -his manners was perhaps even less surprising than -that he should forget the hat itself, which gripped -his head in a cruel fashion.</p> - -<p>“Ay,” he said solemnly in response to the polite -greeting, and advanced to the counter.</p> - -<p>“Not just so disagreeable as yesterday,” she -added, a trifle more cordially.</p> - -<p>“Ay—na.” He glanced up and down the -counter. “I—I was wantin’ a pencil,” he said at -last.</p> - -<p>“A <em>pencil</em>!” cried Christina; then in a voice -from which all the amazement had gone: “A -pencil—oh, certainly.”</p> - -<p>Macgregor reddened, opened his mouth and—shut -it. Why should he make a bigger fool of -himself by explaining that he had meant to say “a -pen?” Besides (happy thought!) the pen would -be an excuse for calling another time.</p> - -<p>Christina opened the drawer and paused, pursing -her lips. Her tone was casual as she said: “I -hope you found the dozen you bought lately quite -satisfactory.”</p> - -<p>“Oh—ay, they were—splendid.” Macgregor -blushed again.</p> - -<p>Christina smiled as prettily as any musical -comedy actress selling guinea button-holes at a -charity fête. She said: “I’ll tell Miss Tod. -She’ll be delighted. It’s a great saving, buying a -dozen, isn’t it?” Her hand went into the drawer. -“Especially when one uses so many. It’s hardly -worth while buying a single pencil, is it?” Her -hand came out of the drawer and laid a bundle in -front of Macgregor. “Wonderful how they can -do it for threepence!”</p> - -<p>He stared at the bundle, his will fluttering like -a bird under a strawberry net. Dash the pencils!—but -she might be offended <span class="lock">if——</span></p> - -<p>“Some shops sell those pencils at a ha’penny -each, I know,” she went on; “and I believe some -have the neck—I mean the cheek to ask a penny. -Would you like me to put them in paper, sir?”</p> - -<p>Recovering from the shock of the “sir,” Macgregor -shook his head, and laid three coppers on -the counter.</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” said she. “Is there anything -else to-day?”</p> - -<p>Before he could answer, the door opened and an -elderly man entered. At the ring of the bell Macgregor -dropped the bundle; the flimsy fastening -parted, and the pencils were scattered.</p> - -<p>Christina checked an “Oh, crickey!” and -turned to attend to the second customer while the -first collected his purchases from the floor.</p> - -<p>The elderly man wanted a newspaper only, but -thanks to Christina’s politeness over the transaction, -he went out feeling as if he had done quite a -stroke of business.</p> - -<p>“I think you should let me tie them up for you,” -she said to Macgregor, who was rising once more, -rather red in the face.</p> - -<p>“Thank ye,” he said apologetically, handing her -the pencils.</p> - -<p>“Accidents will happen,” she remarked cheerfully. -“If they didn’t, there would be mighty -little happening. I say, there’s only eleven pencils -here.”</p> - -<p>“The ither rolled ablow the counter. It doesna -matter,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Oh, but that won’t do. See, I’ll give you another -now, and get the one under the counter some -day—next stock-taking, maybe.” She began to -make a parcel, then halted in the operation. “Are -you sure there’s nothing else that I can show you -to-day, sir?”</p> - -<p>Macgregor didn’t want to go just yet, so he -appeared to be thinking deeply.</p> - -<p>“Essay paper—notebooks,” she murmured; -“notepaper—envelopes—<span class="lock">indiarubber——”</span></p> - -<p>“Injinrubber,” said Macgregor. (He would -give it to Jimsie.)</p> - -<p>She turned and whipped a box from a shelf. -“Do you prefer the red or the white—species?” -she enquired, and felt glad she hadn’t said “sort.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m no heedin’ which,” he replied generously, -with a bare glance at the specimens laid out -for his inspection.</p> - -<p>“All the same price—one penny per cake. The -red is more flexible.” By way of exhibiting its -quality, she took the oblong lengthwise between -her finger and thumb and squeezed. To her dismay -it sprang from her grip and struck her customer -on the chin.</p> - -<p>“Oh, mercy!” she exclaimed. “I didna <span class="lock">mean——”</span></p> - -<p>Recovering the missile from the floor, he said -gravely: “My! ye’re a comic!”</p> - -<p>“I’m not! I tell ye I didna mean it. Did it -hurt ye?”</p> - -<p>“No’ likely! I ken ye didna try it.” He -smiled faintly. “If ye had tried to hit me, ye wud -ha’e missed me.”</p> - -<p>“If I had tried, I wud ha’e hit ye a heap harder,” -she said indignantly.</p> - -<p>“Try, then.” His smile broadened as he offered -her the cake. “I’ll stan’ still.”</p> - -<p>Christina’s sporting instinct was roused. “I’ll -bet ye the price o’ the cake I hit ye.” And let fly.</p> - -<p>It went over his left shoulder.</p> - -<p>“Ha’e anither shot,” he said, stooping to pick -up the rubber.</p> - -<p>But as swiftly as it had gone her professional -dignity returned. Macgregor came back to the -counter to receive a stiff: “Thank you. Do you -require anything else to-day?”</p> - -<p>His mumbled negative, his disappointed countenance -reproached her.</p> - -<p>“Of course,” she said pleasantly, as she put his -purchases in paper, “I cannot charge you for the -indiarubber.”</p> - -<p>“Aw, cheese it!” he muttered shortly, flinging -a penny on the counter.</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon?”—this with supreme -haughtiness.</p> - -<p>“Oh, ye needna. An’ ye can keep yer injinrubber—an’ -yer pencils forbye!” With these -words he wheeled about and strode for the door.</p> - -<p>Christina collapsed. A customer who paid for -goods and then practically threw them at her was -beyond her experience and comprehension.</p> - -<p>“Here!” she cried. “Stop a minute! I—I -was jist jokin’. Come back an’ get yer things. -We’ll no’ quarrel aboot the penny.”</p> - -<p>With his fingers on the handle he paused and -regarded her half angrily, half reproachfully. He -wanted to say something very cutting, but it -wouldn’t come.</p> - -<p>“Please,” said Christina softly, dropping her -eyes. “Ye’ll get me into trouble if ye dinna tak’ -them.”</p> - -<p>“Eh?”</p> - -<p>“Miss Tod wud be vexed wi’ me for lossin’ a -guid customer. She wud gi’e me the sack, -maybe.”</p> - -<p>“Wud she?—the auld besom!” cried Macgregor, -retracing his steps.</p> - -<p>“Oh, whisht! She’s no’ an auld besom. But -I ken she wud be vexed.” Christina sighed. “I -suppose I’m to blame <span class="lock">for——”</span></p> - -<p>“It’s me that’s to blame,” he interrupted. -“Here!” he said in an unsteady whisper, “will ye -shake han’s?”</p> - -<p>After a momentary hesitation she gave him her -hand, saying graciously: “I’ve no objections, I’m -sure. To tell the truth,” she went on, “I am not -entirely disinterested in you, sir.”</p> - -<p>Macgregor withdrew his empty hand. “I—I -wish ye wudna speak like that,” he sighed.</p> - -<p>“Like what?”</p> - -<p>“That awfu’ genteel talk.”</p> - -<p>“Sorry,” she said. “But it gangs doon wi’ -maist o’ the customers. Besides, I try to keep it -up to please ma aunt. But it doesna soun’ -frien’ly-like, does it?”</p> - -<p>“That’s why I dinna like it,” he ventured, more -easily.</p> - -<p>“I see. But if ye was servin’ in a shop ye wud -ha’e to speak the same way.”</p> - -<p>“I’m in the pentin’ trade,” he informed her, -with an air of importance.</p> - -<p>“I’ve a nose—but I like the smell fine. Ye’re -no’ offended, are ye?”</p> - -<p>“I’m no’ that easy offended. Is Miss Tod yer -aunt?”</p> - -<p>“Na, na; she’s nae relation. Ma aunt is Mrs. -James Baldwin.” In the frankest fashion she -gave a brief sketch of her position on the world’s -surface. While she spoke she seated herself on -the stool, and Macgregor, without thinking about it, -subsided upon the chair and leant his arm upon the -counter. Ere she ended they were regarding each -other almost familiarly.</p> - -<p>Anon Macgregor furnished a small account of -himself and his near relatives.</p> - -<p>“That’s queer!” commented Christina when he -had finished.</p> - -<p>“What?” he asked, anxiously.</p> - -<p>“Ma Uncle James is a great frien’ o’ your -Uncle Purdie. Your uncle buys a heap o’ fancy -things frae mine, an’ he’s often been in oor hoose. -I hear he’s worth a terrible heap o’ money, but naebody -wud think it. I like him fine.”</p> - -<p>“Ye wudna like ma aunt fine,” said Macgregor.</p> - -<p>“No’ bein’ acquaint wi’ her, I canna say,” -Christina returned. “But I believe if it hadna -been for her yer uncle wud never ha’e made his -fortune at the grocery <span class="lock">trade——”</span></p> - -<p>“Her! What had she got to dae wi’ ’t?”</p> - -<p>“Dear knows; but Uncle James says she egged -him on to mak’ money frae the day she married -him. But mony a woman does that. I wud dae -it masel’—no’ that I’m greedy; I jist couldna -endure a man that didna get on. I hate a stick-in-the-mud. -It’s a fac’, though, that Mr. Purdie -got the push-on frae his wife. An’ Uncle James -says he’s no’ near done yet: he’ll be Lord Provost -afore he’s feenished. Ye should keep in wi’ yer -Uncle Purdie.”</p> - -<p>Macgregor scarcely heard her latter words. His -Aunt Purdie responsible for his Uncle Purdie’s -tremendous success in business! The idea was -almost shocking. From his earliest boyhood it -had been a sort of religion with him to admire his -uncle and despise his aunt. Could any good thing -come out of Aunt Purdie?</p> - -<p>“I doobt yer Uncle James doesna ken <em>her</em> extra -weel,” he said at last.</p> - -<p>“Oh, ma uncle’s a splendid judge o’ character,” -she assured him. “Especially female character,” -she added. “That’s why he married ma aunt an’ -adopted me. I took his name, like ma aunt did -when she married him. It was a love match, in -spite o’ their ages. There’s grander names, but -nane better, nor Baldwin. In ma youth I called it -Bald-yin to tease ma aunt when she was saft on -him. But never heed aboot that the noo. D’ye -ken what astonishes me aboot yersel’?”</p> - -<p>“What?” asked Macgregor, startled.</p> - -<p>“That ye’re no’ in the grocery trade.”</p> - -<p>“Me! What for wud I be a grocer?”</p> - -<p>“What for are ye a penter? An’ yer Uncle -Purdie has nae offspring. My! if I had had a -chance like you!” She heaved a sigh. “I’m -sure yer uncle wud ha’e ta’en ye into his business. -Ye canna be sae stupid that he wudna gi’e ye even -a trial. Nae offence intended.”</p> - -<p>“I could ha’e been in the business if I had -wanted,” Macgregor replied, with some dignity. -“He offered me a job when I left the schule. But, -ye see, I aye had the notion to be a penter. I like -to be movin’ ma han’s an’ feet.”</p> - -<p>“An’ what did yer parents say?”</p> - -<p>“They canna thole Aunt Purdie. It was her -that brought the message frae ma uncle—as if it -was a favour. They said I was to choose for -masel’.”</p> - -<p>“Pride’s an awfu’ thing for costin’ folk cash,” -the girl remarked, with a shake of her head.</p> - -<p>“Eh?”</p> - -<p>“Naething,” she replied. After a slight pause -she continued: “It’s no’ for me to speak aboot -yer parents, but I hope ye’ll excuse me sayin’ that -ye’re a bigger fool than ye look.”</p> - -<p>“Wha—what d’ye mean?”</p> - -<p>“I didna mean to insult ye or hurt yer feelin’s.” -Another pause. “D’ye no’ want to get up in the -world, man? D’ye no’ want to be a millionaire—or -a thoosandaire, onyway?”</p> - -<p>“Me?”</p> - -<p>“Ay, you!”</p> - -<p>Across the counter he regarded her in a semi-dazed -fashion, speechless. She was rather -flushed; her eyes danced with eagerness. Apparently -she was all in earnest.</p> - -<p>“Are ye gaun to be a penter a’ yer life?” she -demanded.</p> - -<p>“What for no’?” he retorted with some spirit. -“It’s guid pay.”</p> - -<p>“Guid pay! In ten year what’ll ye be makin’?”</p> - -<p>“I couldna say. Maybe—maybe twenty-five -shillin’s; <span class="lock">maybe——”</span></p> - -<p>“A week?”</p> - -<p>“Ay; of course,” he said, nettled. “D’ye think -I meant a month?”</p> - -<p>“If ye was wi’ yer uncle an’ stickin’ to yer business, -I wud ha’e said ’a day’! Ma gracious goodness! -if ye was pleasin’ a man like that, there’s nae -sayin’ where ye wud be in ten year.”</p> - -<p>“Ach,” he said, with an attempt at lightness, -“I’m no’ heedin’.”</p> - -<p>Christina doubled her fist and smote the counter -with such violence that he fairly jumped on his -seat.</p> - -<p>“Ye’re no’ heedin’! What’s the use o’ bein’ -alive if ye’re no’ heedin’? But ye’re a’ the same, -you young workin’ men. Yer rule is to dae the -least ye can for yer wages, an’ never snap at an -opportunity. An’ when ye get aulder ye gang on -strike an’ gas aboot yer rights, but ye keep dumb -enough aboot yer deserts, <span class="lock">an’——”</span></p> - -<p>“Here, haud on!” cried Macgregor, now -thoroughly roused. “What dae you ken aboot -it? Ye’re jist a <span class="lock">lassie——”</span></p> - -<p>“I’ve eyes an’ ears.”</p> - -<p>There was a pause.</p> - -<p>“Are ye a—a suffragist?” he asked, weakly.</p> - -<p>“I ha’ena quite decided on that p’int. Are you -in favour o’ votes for females? Aweel, there’s -nae use answerin’, for ye’ve never thought aboot it. -I suppose, like the ither young men aboot here, ye -buy yer brains every Seturday done up in the -sports edition o’ the evenin’ paper. Oh, Christopher -Columbus! that’s when <em>I</em> get busy on a -Seturday nicht. Footba’—footba’—footba’!”</p> - -<p>Macgregor swallowed these remarks, and reverted -to the previous question. “What,” he -enquired a little loftily, “dae <em>you</em> expec’ to be -earnin’ ten year frae the noo?”</p> - -<p>Promptly, frankly, she replied: “If I’m no’ -drawin’ thirty shillin’s a week I’ll consider masel’ -a bad egg. Of course, it a’ depends on whether I -select to remain single or itherwise.”</p> - -<p>This was too much for Macgregor. He surveyed -her with such blank bewilderment that she -burst out laughing.</p> - -<p>He went red to the roots of his hair, or at any -rate to the edge of his hat. “Oh, I kent fine ye -was coddin’ me,” he said crossly, looking hurt and -getting to his feet.</p> - -<p>She stopped laughing at once. “That’s the -worst o’ talkin’ plain sense nooadays; folk think -ye’re only coddin’,” she observed, good-humouredly. -“I’m sorry I vexed ye.” Impulsively she held out -her hand. “I doobt we’ll ha’e to shake again.”</p> - -<p>This, also, was too much for Macgregor. He -seized her fingers in a grip that made her squeal.</p> - -<p>And just then bang went the bell above the door.</p> - -<p>Christina bit her lip and smiled through her tears -as M. Tod entered the shop.</p> - -<p>“Anything else to-day?” she enquired in her -politest voice, and placed the little parcel under -Macgregor’s hand.</p> - -<p>His reply was inaudible. His hand closed automatically -on his purchase, his eyes met hers for -the fraction of a second, and then he practically -bolted.</p> - -<p>“Young men are aye in sich a great hurry nooadays,” -remarked M. Tod, beginning to remove her -gloves.</p> - -<p>“He’s the young man that bought the dizzen -pencils the ither nicht,” Christina explained, examining -the joints of her right hand. “I’ve just been -sellin’ him anither dizzen.”</p> - -<p>“Dearie me! he <em>must</em> be a reporter on yin of the -papers.”</p> - -<p>“He’s a whale for pencils, whatever he is,” -Christina returned, putting straight the piles of -periodicals that adorned the counter. “I doobt he -wud need to report wi’ his feet forbye his han’s to -get through a dizzen pencils in three days. It’s a -bit o’ a mystery aboot the pencils.”</p> - -<p>“A mystery!” exclaimed M. Tod, who was just -about to blow into a glove.</p> - -<p>Christina picked the neglected penny from the -counter and dropped it into the till. “It’s a case -o’ <span class="lang" lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">cherchez la femme</span>,” she said softly, with quite -a passable accent.</p> - -<p>“What’s that?” murmured M. Tod.</p> - -<p>“French,” sighed Christina, making a jotting of -her last sales, and taking a long time to do it.</p> - -<p>M. Tod stared for a moment or two, shook her -head, drew a long breath, and with the same inflated -her glove.</p> -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="linebox" /> -<h3 class="h3head">CHAPTER SEVEN</h3> -<hr /> -<p class="p2"><span class="sc">Macgregor</span> was half-way home ere he comprehended -the cause of the dull ache about his temples. -He eased his hat and obtained relief. But there -was no lid to lift from his mind which seemed to -be overcrowded with a jumble of ideas—old ideas -turned topsy-turvy, some damaged, some twisted, -and new ideas struggling, as it were, for existence. -Moral earthquakes are not infrequent during our -’teens and twenties; by their convulsions they -provide construction material for character; but -the material is mixed, and we are left to choose -whether we shall erect sturdy towers or jerry-buildings.</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>The boy was not, of course, aware that here was -a crisis in his life. He was staggered and disturbed, -just as he would have been had the smooth, -broad street on which he walked suddenly become -a narrow pass beset with rifts and boulders. The -upheaval of his preconceived notions of girlhood -had been sharp indeed. He had never heard a -girl speak as Christina had spoken; it had never -occurred to him that a girl could speak so. But -while he felt hurt and vexed, he harboured no -resentment; her frank friendliness had disposed of -that; and while he was humbled, he was not—thanks -to his modesty, or, if you prefer it, lack of -cocksureness—grievously humiliated. It is not -in the nature of healthy youth to let misery have all -its own way.</p> - -<p>Before he reached home he was able to extract -several sips of comfort from his recent experience. -He knew her name and she knew his; they had -discovered a mutual acquaintance (how we love -those mutual acquaintances—sometimes!); they -had shaken hands twice.</p> - -<p>He spent the evening indoors—he might have -done otherwise had not Christina said something -about being busy on Saturday nights. He was -patient with his little brother, almost tender towards -his sister. He played several games of draughts -with his father, wondering between his deplorable -moves when he should see Christina again. He -spoke in a subdued fashion. And about nine -o’clock his mother anxiously asked him whether he -was feeling quite well, and offered to prepare a -homely potion. One regrets to record that he -returned a rough answer and went off to bed, leaving -Lizzie to shake her head more in sorrow than -in anger while she informed John that she doubted -Macgregor was “sickenin’ for something.” As -Macgregor had not condescended to play draughts -for at least two years, John was inclined to share -her fears; it did not occur to him to put down such -conduct to feminine influence; and an hour later, -at her suggestion, he went to his son’s room and -softly opened the door.</p> - -<p>“Oh! ye’re no’ in yer bed yet, Macgreegor?”</p> - -<p>“I’m jist gaun.”</p> - -<p>“What are ye workin’ at?”</p> - -<p>“Jist sharpenin’ a pencil. I’ll no’ be lang”—impatiently.</p> - -<p>“Are ye feelin’ weel enough?”</p> - -<p>“I’m fine. Dinna fash yersel’.”</p> - -<p>John withdrew and reported to Lizzie. She was -not satisfied, and before going to bed, about eleven -o’clock, she listened at Macgregor’s door. All she -heard was: “Here, Jimsie, I wish to peace ye wud -keep yer feet to yersel’.”</p> - -<p>She opened the door. “Laddie, are ye no’ sleepin’ -yet?”</p> - -<p>“Hoo can I sleep wi’ Jimsie jabbin’ his feet in -ma back?”</p> - -<p>She entered, and going to the bed removed the -unconscious Jimsie to his own portion thereof, at -the same time urging him into a more comfortable -position. Then she came round and laid her hand -on her first-born’s brow.</p> - -<p>“Are ye sure ye’re a’ richt, laddie?”</p> - -<p>“Ay, I’m fine. I wish ye wudna fash,” he said -shortly, turning over.</p> - -<p>Lizzie went out, closing the door gently. On the -kitchen dresser she set out the medicine bottle and -spoon against emergencies.</p> - -<p>Perhaps there is a mansion in Heaven that will -always be empty—a mansion waiting to receive -those who in their youth never snubbed their -anxious parents. Ere the door closed Macgregor -was pricked with compunction. He was sensitive -enough for that. But it is the sensitive people who -hurt the people they care for.</p> - -<p>In extenuation let it be said at once that the boy -was enduring a dire reaction. It now appeared -that Christina’s friendliness had been all in the way -of business. Socially (he did not think the word, -of course) Christina was beyond him. Christina, -for all he knew, sat at night in a parlour, had an -aunt that kept a servant (and, maybe, a gramaphone), -was accustomed to young men in high -collars and trousers that always looked new. Yes, -she had shaken hands with him simply in order to -get him to come back and buy another dozen of -pencils.</p> - -<p>He was very unhappy. He tossed from side to -side until the voice of Jimsie, drowsy and peevish, -declared that he had taken all the clothes. Which -was practically true, though he did not admit it as -he disentangled himself of the blankets and flung -them all at his brother. He did not care if he -froze—until he began to feel a little cold, when he -rescued with difficulty a portion of the coverings -from Jimsie’s greedy clutch. He would not go to -the shop again. But he would pass it as often as -possible. He would get Willie Thomson to accompany -him, and they would smoke cigarettes, and -they would stop at the door when a customer was -entering, and laugh very loudly. He would save -up and take Jessie Mary to the dance—at least, he -would think about it. After all, it might be more -effective to go to the shop and buy more presents -for Jessie Mary and—oh, great idea!—request -with great unconcern that they should be sent to -her address!</p> - -<p>The clock in the kitchen struck one. With any -sympathy at all it would have struck at least five. -It was like telling a person in the throes of toothache -that the disease is not serious. By the way, -one wonders if doctors will ever know as much -about disease as patients know about pain. Speculation -apart, it is a sorry business to flatter ourselves -we have been suffering all night only to find -that the night is but beginning. Still, there must -have, been something far wrong with the Robinsons’ -kitchen clock. Macgregor waited, but to his -knowledge it never struck two. Indeed, it missed -all the hours until nine.</p> - -<p>Macgregor, however, presented himself in good -time for the Sunday breakfast. His punctuality -was too much for his mother, and she insisted on -his taking a dose from the bottle on the dresser. -Even youth is sometimes too tired to argue. -“Onything for peace,” was his ungracious remark -as he raised the spoon to his lips.</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>Scotland in its harshest, bleakest period of -religious observance could not have provided a -more dismal Sabbath than Macgregor provided for -himself. Although his mother gave him the option -of staying at home, he accompanied his parents to -church; although he came back with a good appetite, -he refused to let himself enjoy his dinner; -although he desired to take the accustomed Sunday -afternoon walk with his father down to the docks -(they had gone there, weather permitting, for -years), he shut himself up in the solitude of his -bedroom.</p> - -<p>He spent most of the afternoon in putting points -to his stock of pencils. How the operation should -have occupied so much time may be explained by -the fact that the lead almost invariably parted from -the wood ere a perfect point was attained. Indeed, -when the task was ended, he had comparatively -little to show for his threepence save a heap of -shavings, fragments and dust. His resentment, -however, was all against M. Tod; he wished she -had been of his own sex and size. He also wished -she had kept an ice-cream shop, open on Sundays.—No, -he didn’t! Christina wouldn’t like working -on Sundays; besides, an awful lot of chaps -hung about ice-cream shops. He wondered what -church Christina attended. If he only knew, he -might go there in the evening. (What our -churches owe to young womanhood will never be -known.) But there were scores of churches in -Glasgow. It would take years to get round them—and -in the end she might sit in the gallery and -he under it. In the unlikely event of his again -entering Miss Tod’s shop, there would be no harm -in asking Christina about her church and whether -she sang in the choir. But stop! if she didn’t sing -in the choir, she might think he was chaffing her. -That wouldn’t do at all. Better just find out about -the church, and if he didn’t get a view of her on -his first visit he could try again.</p> - -<p>There appears no reason why Macgregor’s spirits -should have gradually risen throughout these and -other equally rambling reflections; but the fact -remains that they did so. By tea-time he was in a -comely condition of mind. He made young Jimsie -happy with the cake of rubber and presented Jeannie -surreptitiously with a penny, “to buy sweeties.” -He seemed interested in his father’s account of a -vessel that had been in collision the previous day. -He did not scowl when his mother expressed satisfaction -with the way in which he was punishing the -bread and butter, and openly congratulated herself -on having administered the physic just in time. -Nay, more; he offered to stay in the house with -Jimsie while John and Lizzie took an evening stroll -and Jeannie went with a friend to evening service. -No people are quite so easily made happy as parents, -and when, out-of-doors, John suggested that Macgregor’s -weekly allowance should be raised to one -shilling, Lizzie actually met him half-way by -promising to make it ninepence in future.</p> - -<p>During their absence Macgregor did his utmost -to amuse Jimsie, who was suffering from an -incipient cold, but shortly after their return he -became restless, and ere long announced (rather -indistinctly) his intention of going out for “twa-three” -minutes.</p> - -<p>Lizzie was about to ask “where?” when John -remarked that it was a fine night and that he would -come too. Thus was frustrated Macgregor’s -desire to take one look at the shuttered shrine with -“M. Tod” over the portal—a very foolish sort of -desire, as many of us know—from experience.</p> - -<p>In the circumstances Macgregor accepted his -father’s company with a fairly good grace, merely -submitting that the walk should be a short one.</p> - -<p>On the way home, at a corner, under a lamp, -they came upon Willie Thomson in earnest and -apparently amicable conversation with Jessie Mary. -Such friendliness struck Macgregor as peculiar, for -since the days of their childhood the twain had -openly expressed contempt and dislike for each -other, and he wondered what was “up,” especially -when the sight of him appeared to cause Willie, at -least, considerable embarrassment. But presently -the happy idea flashed upon him that Willie had -suddenly become “sweet” on Jessie Mary, and -would accordingly need to be dodged no longer. -He felt more friendly towards Willie than for some -time past. His feelings with regard to Jessie -Mary were less definite, but he was sure his face -had not got “extra red” under her somewhat -mocking glance.</p> - -<p>“Ye’re no’ as thick wi’ Wullie as ye used to be,” -his father remarked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, we’ve nae quarrel,” he returned. “What -did ye say was the name o’ that damaged boat ye -saw the day?”</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>He went to bed not unhappy. He would find a -way of knowing Christina better and proving to her -that the painting trade was as good as any.</p> -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="linebox" /> -<h3 class="h3head">CHAPTER EIGHT</h3> -<hr /> -<p class="p2"><span class="sc">“Ye’ve</span> been in business a long time, Miss Tod,” -said Christina on Monday afternoon, looking up -from the front advertising page of a newspaper; -“so I wish ye wud tell me yer honest opinion o’ -business in general.”</p> - -<p>M. Tod paused in the act of polishing a fancy -ink-pot (she had spasms of industry for which -there was no need) and stared in bewildered -fashion at her assistant. “Dearie me, lassie!” she -exclaimed, “ye say the queerest things! Ma -honest opinion o’ business? I’m sure I never -thought <span class="lock">aboot——”</span></p> - -<p>“I’ll put it anither way. Supposin’ ye was back -at the schule, an’ ye was asked to define business—ye -ken what define means—what wud be yer -answer?”</p> - -<p>“Is it fun ye’re after?” M. Tod enquired, a -trifle suspiciously.</p> - -<p>“I was never mair serious in ma life,” Christina -returned rather indignantly.</p> - -<p>“I didna mean to offend ye,” the other said -gently. “But ye ken fine what business is—whiles -I think ye ken better nor me, though I’ve -been at it for near six-an’-thirty years.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not offended,” said Christina, dropping -the vernacular for the moment. “And I merely -desired to know if your definition of business was -the same as mine.”</p> - -<p>It always made M. Tod a little nervous when her -assistant addressed her in such correct speech. -“Business,” she began, and halted. She set the -ink-pot on the counter, and tried to put the duster -in her pocket.</p> - -<p>“A few words will suffice,” the girl remarked -encouragingly, and took charge of the duster.</p> - -<p>“Business,” resumed the old woman, and quite -unconsciously put her hands behind her back, -“business is jist buyin’ and sellin’.” And she gave -a little smile of relief and satisfaction.</p> - -<p>Christina shook her head. “I suppose that’s -what they taught ye at the schule—jist the same -as they taught me. If it wasna for their fancy -departments, sich as physiology an’ Sweedish -drill, the schules wud be oot o’ date. ‘Jist buyin’ -an’ sellin’!’—Oh, Christopher Columbus!”</p> - -<p>M. Tod was annoyed, partly, no doubt, at discovering -her hands behind her back, but ere she -could express herself Christina added:</p> - -<p>“In <em>ma</em> honest opinion business chiefly consists -in folk coddin’ yin anither.”</p> - -<p>M. Tod gasped. “Coddin’! D’ye mean deceivin’?”</p> - -<p>“Na; there’s a difference between coddin’ an’ -deceivin’. Same sort o’ difference as between war -an’ murder. An’ they say that all’s fair in love—I -ha’e ma doobts aboot love—an’ war. Mind ye, -I’m no’ sayin’ onything against coddin’. We’re a’ -in the same boat. Some cods wi’ advertisin’—see -daily papers; some cods wi’ talk; some cods wi’ -lookin’ solemn an’ smilin’ jist at the right times. -But we’re a’ coddin’, cod, cod, coddin’! But we’ll -no’ admit it! An’ naebody wud thank us if we -did.”</p> - -<p>The old woman was almost angry. “I’m sure -I never codded a customer in ma life,” she cried.</p> - -<p>Christina regarded her very kindly for a second -or two ere she returned pleasantly: “I wudna say -but what you’re an exception to the rule, Miss Tod. -But ye’re a rare exception. Even ma uncle—an’ -he’s the honestest man in the world—once codded -me when I was assistin’ ma aunt at Kilmabeg, afore -she got married. Wi’ his talk an’ his smiles he got -me to buy things against ma better judgment—things -I was sure wud never sell. If he had been -dumb an’ I had been blind, I would never ha’e -made the purchase. But I was young then. Of -course <em>he</em> didna want to cod me; it was jist a habit -he had got into wi’ bein’ in business. But there’s -nae doobt,” she went on calmly, ignoring M. Tod’s -obvious desire to get a word in, “there’s nae doobt -that coddin’ is yin o’ the secrets o’ success. When -ye consider that half the trade o’ the world consists -in sellin’ things that folk dinna need an’ whiles -dinna <span class="lock">want——”</span></p> - -<p>“Whisht, lassie! Ye speak as if naebody had -a conscience!”</p> - -<p>“I didna mean that,” was the mild reply. “It’s -the only thing in this world that’s no’ easy codded—though -some folk seem to be able to do the -trick. For, of course, there’s a limit to coddin’ in -business—fair coddin’, I mean. But ye’ve taken -ma remarks ower seriously, Miss Tod.”</p> - -<p>“I never heard sich remarks in a’ ma days.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry I’ve annoyed ye.”</p> - -<p>“Ye ha’ena annoyed me, dearie. But I’m -vexed to think ye’ve got sich notions in yer young -heid.” M. Tod sighed.</p> - -<p>Christina sighed also, a little impatiently, and -picked up the fancy ink-pot from the counter. -“Hoo lang ha’e ye had this in the shop?” she -enquired carelessly.</p> - -<p>M. Tod shook her head. “Ten years, onyway. -It wudna sell.”</p> - -<p>“It’s marked eighteenpence.”</p> - -<p>“Ay. But when I had a wee sale, five year -back, I put it among a lot of nick-nacks at threepence, -an’ even then it wudna sell. It’s no’ pretty.”</p> - -<p>“It’s ugly—but that’s nae reason for it no’ -sellin’.” Christina examined the glass carefully. -“It’s no’ in bad condition,” she observed. “Wud -ye part wi’ it for ninepence?”</p> - -<p>“Ninepence! I’ll never get ninepence!”</p> - -<p>“Never say die till ye’re buried! Jist wait a -minute.” Christina went over to the desk and -spent about five minutes there, while M. Tod -watched her with intermittent wags of her old -head.</p> - -<p>The girl came back with a small oblong of white -card. “Dinna touch it, Miss Tod. The ink’s no’ -dry,” she said warningly, and proceeded to place -the inkpot and card together in a prominent position -on the glass show-case that covered a part of -the counter. “Noo, that’ll gi’e it a chance. Instead -o’ keepin’ it in a corner as if we were -ashamed o’ it, we’ll mak’ a feature o’ it for a week, -an’ see what happens. Ye’ll get yer ninepence -yet.”</p> - -<p>Christina printed admirably, and her employer -had no difficulty in reading the card a yard away -even without her glasses. It bore these words:</p> - -<p class="center">ANTIQUE</p> - -<p class="center">NOVEL GIFT</p> - -<p class="center smaller">MERELY 9D.</p> - -<p>“If ye call a thing ‘antique,’” explained Christina, -“folk forget its ugliness. An’ the public -likes a thing wi’ ‘novel’ on it, though they wudna -believe ye if ye said it was new. An’ as for ‘gift’—weel, -that adds to the inkpot’s chances o’ findin’ -a customer. D’ye see?”</p> - -<p>“Ay,” said the old woman. “Ye’re a clever -lassie, but I doobt ye’ll never get ninepence.”</p> - -<p>“Gi’e me a week,” said Christina, “an’ if it -doesna disappear in that time, we’ll keep it till -Christmas an’ reduce it to a shillin’. But I think -a week’ll suffice.”</p> - -<p>M. Tod hesitated ere she gently said: “But -ye’ll no try to cod onybody, dearie?”</p> - -<p>Christina waved her hand in the direction of -the card. “I’ll leave the public to cod itsel’,” she -said. “Noo it’s time ye was gettin’ ready for yer -walk.”</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>It may have been that Christina, in the back of -her mind, saw in Macgregor a possible customer -for the ugly inkpot. At any rate, she was disappointed -when the evening passed without his entering -the shop; she hoped she had not spoken too -plainly to him on his last visit—not but what he -needed plain speaking. She was not to know until -later how Macgregor’s employer had unexpectedly -decreed that he should work overtime that night, -nor how Macgregor had obeyed joylessly despite -the extra pay.</p> - -<p>He called the following evening—and found -M. Tod alone at the receipt of custom. He had -yet to learn that on Tuesdays and Thursdays -Christina left business early in order to attend -classes. He must have looked foolish as he approached -the counter, yet he had the presence of -mind to ask for a ha’penny evening paper. -Fortune being fickle—thank goodness!—does not -confine her favour to the brave, and on this occasion -she had arranged that M. Tod should be sold out -of that particular evening paper. So Macgregor -saved his money as well as his self-respect.</p> - -<p>On the morrow M. Tod, who still clung to the -belief that the young man wrote for the papers, -reported the incident to her assistant. Possibly -Christina could have given a better reason than -this for her subsequent uncertainty of temper, and -doubtless it was mere absent-mindedness that -accounted for her leaving the sliding panel to the -window a few inches open after she had thrown -it wide without any apparent purpose. And it is -highly probable that Macgregor would have taken -advantage of the aperture had he not been again -working overtime on that and on the two following -nights.</p> - -<p>So it was not until Saturday afternoon that they -met once more. Macgregor held aloof from the -shop until M. Tod appeared—of course she was -later than usual!—and, after an anxious gaze at -the sky, proceeded to toddle up the street. Then -he approached the window. He was feeling fairly -hopeful. His increased allowance had come as a -pleasant surprise. Moreover, he had saved during -the week fourpence in car-money and had spent -nothing. He had fifteenpence in his pocket—wealth!</p> - -<p>As he halted at the window, the panel at the -back was drawn tight with an audible snap. For -a moment he felt snubbed; then he assured himself -there was nothing extraordinary in the occurrence, -and prepared to enter the shop, reminding himself, -firstly, that he was going to purchase a penholder, -secondly, that he was not going to lose his head -when the bell banged.</p> - -<p>Christina was perched at the desk writing with -much diligence. She laid down a pencil and -slipped from her stool promptly but without haste.</p> - -<p>“Good-afternoon, Mr. Robinson,” she said -demurely.</p> - -<p>If anyone else in the world had called him -“Mister Robinson” he would have resented it as -chaff, but now, though taken aback, he felt no -annoyance.</p> - -<p>“Ay, it’s a fine day,” he returned, rather irrelevantly, -and suddenly held out his hand.</p> - -<p>This was a little more than Christina had expected, -but she gave him hers with the least possible -hesitation. For once in her life, however, she was -not ready with a remark.</p> - -<p>Macgregor having got her hand, let it go immediately, -as though he were doubtful as to the -propriety of what he had done.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been workin’ late every day this week -excep’ Tuesday,” he said.</p> - -<p>For an instant Christina looked pleased; then she -calmly murmured: “Oh, indeed.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, every day excep’ Tuesday, till nine -o’clock,” he informed her, with an effort.</p> - -<p>“Really!”</p> - -<p>He struggled against a curious feeling of mental -suffocation, and said: “I was in here on Tuesday -nicht. I—I didna see ye.”</p> - -<p>“I attend a shorthand class on Tuesday nights.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” He wanted very much to make her -smile, so he said: “When I didna see ye on Tuesday, -I was afraid ye had got the sack.”</p> - -<p>Christina drew herself up. “What can I do for -you to-day, Mr. Robinson?” she enquired with -stiff politeness.</p> - -<p>“I was jist jokin’,” he cried, dismayed; “I didna -mean to offend ye.”</p> - -<p>Christina’s fingers played a soundless tune on the -edge of the counter; her eyes gazed over his head -into space. She waited with an air of weary -patience.</p> - -<p>“I was wantin’ a pen—a penholder,” he said at -last, in a hopeless tone of voice.</p> - -<p>“Ha’penny or penny?” she asked without -moving.</p> - -<p>“A penny yin, please,” he said humbly.</p> - -<p>She turned and twitched a card from its nail, -and laid it before him. “Kindly take your -choice,” she said, and moved up the counter a yard -or so. She picked up a novelette and opened it.</p> - -<p>Macgregor examined and fingered the penholders -for nearly a minute by the clock ere he glanced at -her. She appeared to be engrossed in the novelette, -but he was sure he had hurt her feelings.</p> - -<p>“I was jist jokin’,” he muttered.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you wanted a ha’penny one.” She -twitched down another card of penholders, laid it -before him as if—so it seemed to him—he had -been dirt, and went back to her novelette.</p> - -<p>Had he been less in love he would surely have -been angry then. Had she seen his look she would -certainly have been sorry.</p> - -<p>There was a long silence while his gaze wandered, -while he wondered what he could do to make -amends.</p> - -<p>And lo! the ugly inkpot caught his eye. He -read the accompanying card several times; he -fingered the money in his pocket; he told himself -insistently that ninepence was not worth considering. -Once more he glanced at the girl. She was -frowning slightly over the page. Perhaps she -wanted him to go.</p> - -<p>“I’ll buy that, if ye like,” he said, pointing at -the inkpot.</p> - -<p>“Eh?” cried Christina, and dropped the -novelette. “Beg your pardon,” she went on, -recovering her dignity and moving leisurely -towards him, “but I did not quite catch what you -observed.” She was pleased that she had used the -word “observed.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll buy that,” repeated Macgregor. “What’s -it for?”</p> - -<p>“It’s for keeping ink in. It’s an inkpot. The -price is ninepence.”</p> - -<p>“I can read,” said Macgregor, with perhaps his -first essay in irony.</p> - -<p>Christina tilted her chin. “I presume you want -it for a gift,” she said haughtily.</p> - -<p>“Na; I’m gaun to pay for it.”</p> - -<p>“I meant to give away as a gift.” It was rather -a stupid sentence, she felt. If she had only remembered -to use the word “bestow.”</p> - -<p>The boy’s clear eyes met hers for a second.</p> - -<p>“It holds a great deal of ink,” she said, possibly -in reply to her conscience.</p> - -<p>“I’ll buy a bottle o’ ink, too, if ye like,” he said -recklessly, and looked at her again.</p> - -<p>A flood of honest kindliness swamped the business -instinct of Christina. “I didna mean that!” -she exclaimed, flopping into homely speech; “an’ -I wudna sell ye that rotten inkpot for a hundred -pound!”</p> - -<p>It will be admitted that Macgregor’s amazement -was natural in the circumstances. Ere he -recovered from it she was in fair control of -herself.</p> - -<p>“It’s as good as sold to the <abbr title="Reverend">Rev.</abbr> Mr. McTavish,” -she explained. Her sole foundation for the statement -lay in the fact that the Rev. Mr. McTavish -was to call for a small parcel of stationery about -six o’clock. At the same time she remembered -her duty to her employer. “But we have other -inkpots in profusion,” she declared.</p> - -<p>The limit of his endurance was reached. “Oh,” -he stammered, “I wish ye wudna speak to me like -that.”</p> - -<p>“Like what?”</p> - -<p>“That fancy way—that genteel English.”</p> - -<p>The words might have angered her, but not the -voice. She drew a quick breath and said:</p> - -<p>“Are ye a frien’ or a customer?”</p> - -<p>“Ye—ye ken fine what I want to be,” he -answered, sadly.</p> - -<p>Now she was sure that she liked him.</p> - -<p>“Well,” she said, slowly, “suppose ye buy a -ha’penny penholder—jist for the sake o’ appearances—an’ -then”—quickly—“we’ll drop business.” -And she refused to sell him a penny one, -and, indeed, anything else in the shop that -afternoon.</p> - -<p>It must be recorded, however, that an hour or -so later she induced the Rev. Mr. McTavish to -buy the ugly inkpot.</p> - -<p>“It wasna easy,” she confessed afterwards to -M. Tod, “an’ I doobt he jist bought it to please -me; but it’s awa’ at last, an’ ye’ll never see it -again—unless, maybe, at a jumble sale. He was -real nice aboot it, an’ gaed awa’ smilin’.”</p> - -<p>“I hope ye didna deceive the man,” said M. -Tod, trying not to look gratified.</p> - -<p>“I told him the solemn truth. I told him it was -on ma conscience to sell the inkpot afore anither -day had dawned. It’s no’ every day it pays ye to -tell the truth, is it?” The last sentence was -happily inaudible to the old woman.</p> - -<p>“But, lassie, I never intended ye to feel ye had -ta’en a vow to sell the inkpot. I wud be unco -vexed to <span class="lock">think——”</span></p> - -<p>Christina gave her employer’s shoulder a little -kindly, reassuring pat. “Na, na; ye needna fash -yersel’ aboot that,” she said. Then, moving -away: “As a matter o’ fac’, I had compromised -myself regardin’ the inkpot in—in anither -direction.”</p> - -<p>Which was all Greek to M. Tod.</p> -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="linebox" /> -<h3 class="h3head">CHAPTER NINE</h3> -<hr /> -<p class="p2"><span class="sc">For</span> a fortnight it ran smoothly enough. There -were, to be sure, occasional ripples; little doubts, -little fears, little jealousies; but they passed as -swiftly as they appeared.</p> - -<p>Macgregor, having no overtime those weeks, -contrived to visit the shop nightly, excepting Tuesdays -and Thursdays, Christina’s class nights. He -paid his footing, so to speak, with the purchase of -a ha’penny evening paper—which he could not -well take home since his father was in the habit of -making a similar purchase on the way from work. -M. Tod was rarely in evidence; the evenings found -her tired, and unless several customers demanded -attention at once (a rare event) she remained in -the living-room, browsing on novelettes selected -for her by her assistant. She was given to protesting -she had never done such a thing prior to -Christina’s advent, to which Christina was wont to -reply that, while she herself was long since “fed -up” with such literature, it was high time M. Tod -should know something about it. Only once did -the old woman intrude on the young people and -prevent intimate converse; but even then Macgregor -did not depart unhappy, for Christina’s -farewell smile was reassuring in its whimsicality, -and in young love of all things seeing is believing.</p> - -<p>It must not be supposed, all the same, that she -gave him much direct encouragement; her lapses -from absolute discretion were brief as they were -rare. But the affections of the youthful male have -a wonderful way of subsisting on crumbs which -hope magnifies into loaves. Nevertheless, her -kindliness was a definite thing, and under its influence -the boy lost some of his shyness and gained -a little confidence in himself. He had already taken -a leap over one barrier of formality: he had called -her “Christina” to her face, and neither her face -nor her lips had reproved him; he had asked her -to call him “Macgreegor”—or “Mac” if she -preferred it, and she had promised to “see about -it.”</p> - -<p>On this November Saturday afternoon he was on -his way to make the tremendous request that she -should allow him to walk home with her when her -day’s work was over. He was far from sure of -himself. In the reign of Jessie Mary—what an -old story now!—he would not have openly craved -permission, but would have hung about on the -chance of meeting her alone and in pleasant -humour. But he could not act so with Christina. -Instinct as well as inclination prevented him. -Moreover, he had been witness, on a certain evening -when he had lingered near the shop—just to -see her with her hat on—-of the fate that befell a -young man (a regular customer, too, Christina -told him afterwards) who dared to proffer his -escort off-hand. Christina had simply halted, -turned and pointed, as one might point for a dog’s -guidance, and after a long moment the young man -had gone in the direction opposite to that in which -he had intended. To Macgregor the little scene -had been gratifying yet disturbing. The memory -of it chilled his courage now. But he was not the -boy to relinquish a desire simply because he was -afraid.</p> - -<p>He broke his journey at a sweet-shop, and -rather surprised himself by spending sixpence, -although he had been planning to do so for the -past week. He had not yet given Christina anything; -he wanted badly to give her something; and -having bought it, he wondered whether she would -take it. He could not hope that the gift would -affect the answer to his tremendous request.</p> - -<p>Coming out of the sweet-shop he caught sight of -the back of Willie Thomson, whom he had not -seen for two weeks. Involuntarily he gave the -boyish whistle, not so long ago the summons that -would have called the one to the other with express -speed. Now it had the reverse effect, for Willie -started, half turned, and then walked quickly up a -convenient side-street. The flight was obvious, -and for a moment Macgregor was hurt and angry. -Then with sudden sympathy he grinned, thinking, -“He’ll be after Jessie Mary, an’ doesna want me.” -He was becoming quite grateful to Willie, for -although he had encountered Jessie Mary several -times of late, she had not reminded him of the -approaching dance, and he gave Willie credit for -that.</p> - -<p>A few minutes later Macgregor stood at the -counter that had become a veritable altar. Not -many of us manage to greet the girls of our -dreams precisely as we would or exactly as we have -rehearsed the operation, and Macgregor’s nerves -at the last moment played him a trick.</p> - -<p>In a cocky fashion, neither natural nor becoming, -he wagged his head in the direction of the -living-room and flippantly enquired: “Is she -oot?”</p> - -<p>To which Christina, her smile of welcome -passing with never a flicker, stiffly replied: “Miss -Tod is out, but may return at any moment.”</p> - -<p>“Aw!” he murmured, “I thought she wud -maybe be takin’ her usual walk.”</p> - -<p>“What usual walk?”</p> - -<p>His hurt look said: “What have I done to -deserve this, Christina?”</p> - -<p>And she felt as though she had struck him. -“Ye shouldna tak’ things for granted,” she said, -less sharply. “I didna think ye was yin o’ the -cheeky sort.”</p> - -<p>“Me!” he cried in consternation.</p> - -<p>“Weel, maybe ye didna mean it, but ye cam’ -into the shop like a dog wi’ twa tails. But”—as -with a sudden inspiration—“maybe ye’ve been -gettin’ a rise in yer wages. If that’s the case, I’ll -apologise.”</p> - -<p>He shook his head. “I dinna ken what ye’re -drivin’ at. I—I was jist gled to see <span class="lock">ye——”</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, we’ll no’ say ony mair aboot it. Maybe I -was ower smart,” she said hastily. “Kindly -forget ma observations.” She smiled apologetically.</p> - -<p>“Are ye no’ gaun to shake han’s wi’ me?” he -asked, still uneasy.</p> - -<p>“Surely!” she answered warmly. “An’ I’ve -got a bit o’ news for ye, Mac.” The name slipped -out; she reddened.</p> - -<p>Yet her cheek was pale compared with the boy’s. -“Oh!” he exclaimed under his breath. Then -with a brave attempt at carelessness he brought -from his pocket a small white package and laid it -on the counter before her. “It—it’s for you,” -he said, forgetting his little speech about wanting -to give her something and hoping she would not be -offended.</p> - -<p>Christina was not prepared for such a happening; -still, her wits did not desert her. She liked -sweets, but on no account was she going to have -her acceptance of the gift misconstrued. She -glanced at Macgregor, whose eyes did not meet -hers; she glanced at the package; she glanced once -more at Macgregor, and gently uttered the solitary -word:</p> - -<p>“Platonic?”</p> - -<p>“Na,” he replied. “Jujubes.”</p> - -<p>Christina bit her lip.</p> - -<p>“D’ye no’ like them?” he asked anxiously.</p> - -<p>The matter had got beyond her. She put out -her hand and took the gift, saying: “Thank ye, -Mac; they’re ma favourite sweeties. But—ye’re -no’ to dae it again.”</p> - -<p>“What kin’ o’ sweeties did ye think they was?” -he asked, breaking a short silence.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s o’ nae consequence,” she lightly replied. -“D’ye no’ want to hear ma bit o’ news?”</p> - -<p>“’Deed, ay, Christina.” Now more at ease, he -settled himself on the chair by the counter.</p> - -<p>“Weel,—ye’ll excuse me no’ samplin’ the -jujubes the noo; it micht be awkward if a customer -was comin’—weel, yer Uncle Purdie was visitin’ -ma uncle last night, an’ what d’ye think I -did?”</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - -<p>“I asked him for a job!”</p> - -<p>“A job!” exclaimed Macgregor. “In—in yin -o’ his shops?”</p> - -<p>“Na; in his chief office.”</p> - -<p>“My! ye’ve a neck—I mean, ye’re no’ afraid.”</p> - -<p>“Ye dinna get muckle in this world wi’oot askin’ -for it.”</p> - -<p>“What did he say?” the boy enquired, after a -pause.</p> - -<p>“He said the job was mine as sune as I was -ready to tak’ it. Ye see, I tell’t him I didna want -to start till I had ma shorthand an’ typewritin’ -perfec’. That’ll tak’ me a few months yet.”</p> - -<p>“I didna ken ye could typewrite.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’ve been workin’ at it for near a year, -but I can only get practisin’ afore breakfast an’ -whiles in the evenin’. Still, I think I’ll be ready -for the office aboot the spring, if no’ earlier.”</p> - -<p>Macgregor regarded her with sorrow mingled -with admiration. “But what way dae ye want to -leave here?” he cried, all at once realising what -the change would mean to him.</p> - -<p>“There’s nae prospects in a wee place like this. -Once I’m in a big place, like yer uncle’s, I’ll get -chances. I want to be yer uncle’s private -<span class="lock">secretary——”</span></p> - -<p>“Ye’re ower young.”</p> - -<p>“I didna say in six months.” Her voice -changed. “Are ye no’ pleased, Mac?”</p> - -<p>“Hoo can I be pleased when ye’re leavin’ here? -Can ye no’ stop? Ye’re fine where ye are. An’ -what’ll Miss Tod dae wantin’ ye?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll get uncle to find her another girl—a -pretty girl, so that ye’ll come here for yer -stationery, eh?”</p> - -<p>“If ye leave, I’ll never come here again. -Could ye no’ get a job behind the counter in yin of -ma uncle’s shops?”—clutching at a straw.</p> - -<p>“I’ll gang furder in the office. If I was a man -I daresay I wud try the shop. If I was you, Mac, -I wud try it.”</p> - -<p>“I couldna sell folk things.”</p> - -<p>“In a big business like yer uncle’s there’s -plenty work besides sellin’. But I suppose ye’ll -stick to the pentin’.”</p> - -<p>“Ay,” he said shortly.</p> - -<p>“Weel, I suppose it’s nane o’ ma business,” she -said good-humouredly. “But, bein’ a frien’, I -thought ye wud ha’e been pleased to hear ma -news.”</p> - -<p>Ere he could reply a woman came in to purchase -note-paper. Possibly Christina’s service was a -trifle less “finished” than usual; and she made no -attempt to sell anything that was not wanted. -Macgregor had a few minutes for reflection, and -when the customer had gone he said, a shade -more hopefully:</p> - -<p>“Ye’ll no’ be kep’ as late at the office as here. -Ye’ll ha’e yer evenin’s free, Christina.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll ha’e mair time for classes. I’m keen on -learnin’ French an’ German. I ken a bit o’ French -already; a frien’ o’ ma uncle’s, a Frenchman, has -been gi’ein’ me lessons in conversation every Sunday -night for a while back. It’ll be useful if I -become a secretary.”</p> - -<p>“Strikes me,” said Macgregor, gloomily, “ye’ve -never ony time for fun.”</p> - -<p>“Fun?”</p> - -<p>“For walkin’ aboot an’—an’ that.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, ye mean oot there.” She swung her hand -in the direction of the street. “I walk here in the -mornin’—near a mile—an’ hame at night; an’ -I’ve two hours free in the middle o’ the day—uncle -bargained for that when he let me come to -Miss Tod. As for loafin’ aboot on the street, I -had plenty o’ the street when I was young, afore -ma aunt took me to bide wi’ her at Kilmabeg. -The street was aboot the only place I had then, an’ -I suppose I wud be there yet if ma aunt hadna -saved me. D’ye ken, Mac,” she went on almost -passionately, “it’s no’ five years since I wanted a -decent pair o’ shoes an’ a guid square meal.... -Oh, I could tell ye things—but anither time, -maybe. As for spendin’ a’ yer spare time on the -street, when ye’ve ony other place to spend it, it’s—weel, -I suppose it’s a matter o’ taste; but if I -can dae onything wi’ ma spare time that’ll mak’ -me independent later on, I’m gaun to dae it. -That’s flat!” Suddenly she laughed. “Are ye -afraid o’ me, Mac?”</p> - -<p>“No’ likely!” he replied, with rather feeble -indignation. “But whiles ye’re awfu’—queer.”</p> - -<p>At that she laughed again. “But I’m no’ so -badly off for fun, as ye call it, either,” she resumed -presently. “Noo an’ then uncle tak’s auntie an’ -me to the theatre. Every holiday we gang to the -coast. An’ there’s always folk comin’ to the -<span class="lock">hoose——”</span></p> - -<p>“Auld folk?”</p> - -<p>“Frae your age upwards. An’ next year, when -I put up ma hair, I’ll be gettin’ to dances. Can ye -waltz?”</p> - -<p>Macgregor gave his head a dismal shake. “I—I -doobt ye’re ower high-class,” he muttered -hopelessly. “Ye’ll no’ be for lookin’ at me next -year.”</p> - -<p>“No’ if ye wear a face like a fiddle. I like to -look at cheery things. What’s up wi’ ye?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, naething. I suppose ye expec’ to be -terrible rich some day.”</p> - -<p>“That’s the idea.”</p> - -<p>“What’ll ye dae wi’ the money? I suppose ye -dinna ken.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I ken fine,” she returned, with an eager -smile. “I’ll buy auntie a lovely cottage at the -coast, an’ uncle a splendid motor car, an’ masel’ a -big white steam yacht.”</p> - -<p>“Ye’re no’ greedy,” he remarked a little sulkily.</p> - -<p>“That’ll be merely for a start, of course. I’ll -tak’ ye a trip roun’ the world for the price o’ a -coat o’ pent to the yacht. Are ye on? Maybe -ye’ll be a master-penter by then.”</p> - -<p>“I—I’ll never be onything—an’ I’m no’ -carin’,” he groaned.</p> - -<p>“If ye lie doon in the road ye’ll no’ win far, an’ -ye’re likely to get tramped on, forbye. What’s -wrang wi’ ye the day?” she asked kindly.</p> - -<p>“Ye—ye jist mak’ me miserable,” he blurted -out, and hung his head.</p> - -<p>“Me!” she said innocently. “I’m sure I never -meant to dae that. I’m a hard nut, I suppose; but -no’ jist as hard as I seem. Onything I can dae to -mak’ ye happy again?”</p> - -<p>The door opened, the bell banged, and a man -came in and bought a weekly paper.</p> - -<p>“Weel?” said Christina when they were alone.</p> - -<p>“Let me walk hame wi’ ye the nicht,” said -Macgregor, who ought to have felt grateful to the -chance customer whose brief stay had permitted -him to get his wits and words together.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” said Christina.</p> - -<p>“I’ll wait for ye as long as ye like.”</p> - -<p>Some seconds passed ere Christina spoke. “I’m -not in the habit of being escorted——” she began.</p> - -<p>“For ony sake dinna speak like that.”</p> - -<p>“I forgot ye wasna a customer. But, seriously, -I dinna think it wud be the thing.”</p> - -<p>“What way, Christina?”</p> - -<p>“Jist because, an’ for several other reasons -besides. My! it’s gettin’ dark. Time I was -lightin’ up.” She struck a match, applied it to a -long taper, and proceeded to ignite the jets in the -window and above the counter. Then she turned -to him again.</p> - -<p>“Mac.”</p> - -<p>Something in her voice roused him out of his -despair. “What, Christina?”</p> - -<p>“If ye walk hame wi’ me, I’ll expect ye to come -up an’ see ma aunt an’ uncle. Ye see, I made a -sort o’ bargain wi’ them that I wudna ha’e ony -frien’s that they didna ken aboot.”</p> - -<p>Macgregor’s expression of happiness gave place -to one of doubt. “Maybe they wudna like me,” -he said.</p> - -<p>“Aweel, that’s your risk, of course. But they’ll -no’ bite ye. I leave the shop at eight.” She -glanced at her little silver watch. “Mercy! -It’s time I was puttin’ on the kettle. Miss Tod’ll -be back in a jiffy. Ye best gang, Mac.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll be waitin’ for ye at eight,” he said, rising. -“An’ it’s awfu’ guid o’ ye, Christina, though I -wish ye hadna made that <span class="lock">bargain——”</span></p> - -<p>“Weel, I like to be as honest as I can—ootside -o’ business. If ye dinna turn up, I’ll forgive ye. -<span class="lock">Noo——”</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, I’ll turn up. It wud tak’ mair nor your -aunt an’ <span class="lock">uncle——”</span></p> - -<p>“Tits, man!” she cried impatiently, “I’ll be -late wi’ her tea. Adieu for the present.” She -waved her hand and fled to the living-room.</p> - -<p>Macgregor went home happy in a subdued -fashion. He found a letter awaiting him. It was -from Grandfather Purdie; it reminded him that his -seventeenth birthday was on the coming Monday, -contained a few kindly words of advice, and -enclosed a postal order for ten shillings. Hitherto -the old man’s gift had been a half-crown, which -had seemed a large sum to the boy. But ten -shillings!—it would be hard to tell whether Macgregor’s -feeling of manliness or of gratitude was -the greater.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Robinson was not a little disturbed when -her son failed to hand over the money to her to -take care of for him, as had been the custom in -the past, and her husband had some difficulty in -persuading her to “let the laddie be in the meantime.”</p> - -<p>Macgregor had gone to his room to make the -most elaborate toilet possible.</p> - -<p>“You trust him, an’ he’ll trust you,” said John. -“Dinna be aye treatin’ him like a wean.”</p> - -<p>“It’s no’ a case o’ no’ trustin’ him,” she returned -a little sharply. “Better treat him like a wean -than let him think he’s a man afore his time.”</p> - -<p>“It’s no’ his money in the bank that tells what -a chap’s made o’, Lizzie. Let us wait an’ see what -he does wi’ it. Mind ye, it’s his to dae what he -likes wi’. Wait, till the morn, an’ then I’ll back ye -up in gettin’ him to put a guid part o’ it, onyway, -in the bank. No’ that I think ony backin’ up’ll be -necessary. If he doesna want to put it in the bank, -he’ll dae it to please us. I’ll guarantee that, -wife.”</p> - -<p>“If I had your heart an’ you had ma heid,” she -said with a faint smile, “I daresay we wud baith -be near perfec’, John. Aweel, I’m no’ gaun to -bother the laddie noo. But”—seriously—“he’s -been oot an awfu’ lot at nicht the last week or twa.”</p> - -<p>“Courtin’,” said John, laughing.</p> - -<p>“Havers!” she retorted. “He’s no’ the sort.”</p> - -<p>“Neither was I,” said John, “an’ look at me -noo!”</p> - -<p>And there they let the subject drop.</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>At seven o’clock Macgregor left the house. At -the nearest post-office he had his order converted -into coin. In one of his pockets he placed a couple -of shillings—for Jeannie and Jimsie. He had no -definite plans regarding the balance, but he hoped -his mother would not ask for it. Somehow its -possession rendered the prospect of his meeting -with the Baldwins a thought less fearsome. He -would tell Christina of his grandfather’s gift, and -later on, perhaps, he would buy—he knew not -what. All at once he wished he had a <em>great</em> deal -of money—wished he were clever—wished he -could talk like Christina, even in the manner he -hated—wished vague but beautiful things. The -secret aspirations of lad’s love must surely make -the angels smile—very tenderly.</p> - -<p>He reached the trysting place with a quick heart, -a moist brow, and five and twenty minutes to spare.</p> -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="linebox" /> -<h3 class="h3head">CHAPTER TEN</h3> -<hr /> -<p class="p2"><span class="sc">From</span> five to seven o’clock on Saturdays M. Tod -and her assistant did a fairly brisk trade in newspapers; -thereafter, as Christina often thought, but -refrained from saying, it was scarcely worth while -keeping the shop open: A stray customer or two -was all that might be expected during the last hour, -and Christina was wont to occupy herself and it by -tidying up for Sunday, while M. Tod from the -sitting-room bleated her conviction, based on -nothing but a fair imagination and a bad memory, -that the Saturday night business was not what it -had been twenty years ago. The old woman -invariably got depressed at the end of the week; -she had come to grudge the girl’s absence even for -a day.</p> - -<p>Christina was counting up some unsold -periodicals, chattering cheerfully the while on the -ethics of modern light literature. The door -opened with a suddenness that suggested a pounce, -and a young woman, whom Christina could not -recollect having seen before, started visibly at the -bang of the bell, recovered herself, and closed the -door carefully. It was Christina’s habit to sum -up roughly the more patent characteristics of new -customers almost before they reached the counter. -In the present case her estimate was as follows: -“Handsome for the money; conceited, but not -proud.”</p> - -<p>“Good-evening,” she said politely.</p> - -<p>“Evenin’,” replied the other, her dark eyes -making a swift survey of the shop. She threw -open her jacket, already unbuttoned, disclosing a -fresh white shirt, a scarlet bow and a silver belt. -Touching the belt, she said: “I think this was got -in your shop.”</p> - -<p>Christina bent forward a little way. “Perhaps,” -she said pleasantly. “I couldn’t say for -certain. We’ve sold several of these belts, but of -course we haven’t the monopoly.”</p> - -<p>It may have been that the young woman fancied -she was being chaffed. Other customers less unfamiliar -with Christina had fancied the same thing. -At all events her tone sharpened.</p> - -<p>“But I happen to ken it was got here.”</p> - -<p>“Then it <em>was</em> got here,” said Christina equably. -“Do you wish to buy another the same? I’m -sorry we’re out of them at present, but we could -procure one for you <span class="lock">within——”</span></p> - -<p>“No, thanks. An’ I didna buy this one, either. -It was bought by a young gentleman friend of -mines.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, indeed!” Christina murmured sympathetically. -Then her eyes narrowed slightly.</p> - -<p>“I came to see if you could change it,” the -young woman proceeded. “It’s miles too wide. -Ye can see that for yersel’.”</p> - -<p>“They are worn that way at present,” said -Christina, with something of an effort.</p> - -<p>“Maybe. But I prefer it tight-fittin’. Of -course I admit I’ve an extra sma’ waist.”</p> - -<p>“Yes—smaller than they are worn at present.”</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon!”</p> - -<p>“Granted,” said Christina absently. She was -trying to think of more than one male customer to -whom she had sold a belt. But there had been -only one.</p> - -<p>The dark eyes of the young woman glimmered -with malignant relish.</p> - -<p>“As I was sayin’,” she said, “I prefer it tight-fittin’. -I’ve a dance on next week, an’ as it is the -belt is unsuitable, an’ the young man expec’s me to -wear it. Of course I couldna tell him that it -didna fit me. So I thought I would jist ask ye to -change it wi’oot lettin’ on to him.” She gave a -self-conscious giggle.</p> - -<p>“I see,” said Christina, dully. “But I’m afraid -there’s only the one size in those belts, and, besides, -we can’t change goods that have been worn for a -month.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, so ye mind when ye sold it!” said the -other maliciously. “Ye’ve a fine memory, Miss! -But though I’ve had it for a month—it was part -o’ his birthday present, ye ken—I’ve scarcely -worn it—only once or twice, to please him.”</p> - -<p>There was a short silence ere Christina spoke. -“If you are bent on getting the belt made tight-fitting, -a jeweller would do it for you, but it would -cost as much as the belt is worth,” she said coldly. -“It’s a very cheap imitation, you know,” she added, -for the first time in her business career decrying her -own wares.</p> - -<p>It was certainly a nasty one, but the young -woman almost succeeded in appearing to ignore it.</p> - -<p>“So ye canna change it—even to please ma -young man?” she said mockingly.</p> - -<p>“No,” Christina replied, keeping her face to the -foe, but with difficulty.</p> - -<p>Said the foe: “That’s a pity, but I daresay I’ll -get over it.” She moved to the door and opened -it. She smiled, showing her teeth. (Christina -was glad to see they were not quite perfect.) “A -sma’ waist like mines is whiles a misfortune,” she -remarked, with affected self-commiseration.</p> - -<p>Christina set her lips, but the retort <em>would</em> come. -“Ay,” she said viciously; “still, I suppose you -couldn’t grow tall any other way.”</p> - -<p>But the young woman only laughed—she could -afford to laugh, having done that which she had -come to do—and departed to report the result of -her mission to the youth known as Willie Thomson.</p> - -<p>“Wha was that, dearie?” M. Tod called from -the living-room.</p> - -<p>Christina started from an unlovely reverie. -“Merely a female,” she answered bitterly, and -resumed counting the periodicals in a listless -fashion.</p> - -<p>The poison bit deep. The cheek of him to suggest -walking home with <em>her</em> when he was going to -a dance with that tight-laced girl next week! No -doubt he admired her skimpy waist. He was -welcome to it and her—and her bad teeth. And -yet he had seemed a nice chap. She had liked him -for his shyness, if for nothing else. But the shy -kind were always the worst. He had very likely -been taking advantage of his shyness. Well, she -was glad she had found him out before he could -walk home with her. And possibly because she -was glad, but probably because she was quite young -at heart, tears came to her eyes....</p> - -<p>When ten minutes had passed, M. Tod, missing -the cheerful chatter, toddled into the shop.</p> - -<p>“What’s wrang, dearie? Preserve us! Ha’e -ye been cryin’?”</p> - -<p>“Cryin’!” exclaimed Christina with contempt. -“But I think I’m in for a shockin’ cauld in ma -heid, so ye best keep awa’ frae me in case ye get -the infection. A cauld’s a serious thing at your -time o’ life.” And she got the feebly protesting -old woman back to the fireside, and left her there.</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>At eight o’clock Macgregor saw the window -lights go out and the shop lights grow dim. A -minute later he heard an exchange of good-nights -and the closing and bolting of a door. Then -Christina appeared, her head a little higher even -than usual.</p> - -<p>He went forward eagerly. He held out his -hand and—it received his gift of the afternoon -unopened.</p> - -<p>“I’ve changed my mind. I’ll bid you good-night—and -good-bye,” said Christina, and walked -on.</p> - -<p>Presently he overtook her.</p> - -<p>“Christina, what’s up?”</p> - -<p>“Kindly do not address me any more.”</p> - -<p>“Any more?——​Never?——​What <span class="lock">way?——”</span></p> - -<p>She was gone.</p> - -<p>He dashed the little package into the gutter and -strode off in the opposite direction, his face white, -his lip quivering.</p> - -<p>If Macgregor seemed in the past to have needed -a thorough rousing, he had it now. For an hour -he tramped the streets, his heart hot within him, -the burden of his thoughts—“She thinks I’m no’ -guid enough.”</p> - -<p>And the end of the tramp found him at the door -of the home of Jessie Mary. For a wonder, on a -Saturday night at that hour, she was in. She -opened the door herself.</p> - -<p>At the sight of the boy something like fear fell -upon her. For what had he come thus boldly?</p> - -<p>He did not keep her in suspense. “Will ye -gang wi’ me to that dance ye was talkin’ aboot?” -he asked abruptly, adding, “I’ve got the money for -the tickets.”</p> - -<p>A curse, a blow even, would have surprised her less.</p> - -<p>“Will ye gang, Jessie?” he said impatiently.</p> - -<p>For the life of her she could not answer at once.</p> - -<p>Said he: “If it’s Wullie, ye’re thinkin’ o’, I’ll -square him.”</p> - -<p>“Wullie!” she exclaimed, a cruel contempt in -the word.</p> - -<p>“Weel, if naebody else is takin’ ye, will ye gang -wi’ me?”</p> - -<p>“Dae—dae ye want me, Macgreegor?”</p> - -<p>“I’m askin’ ye.”</p> - -<p>She glanced at him furtively, but he was not -looking at her; his hands were in his pockets, his -mouth was shaped to emit a tuneless whistle. She -tried to laugh, but made only a throaty sound. -It seemed as if a stranger stood before her, one of -whom she knew nothing save his name. And yet -she liked that stranger and wanted much to go to -the dance with him.</p> - -<p>The whistling ceased.</p> - -<p>“Are ye gaun wi’ somebody else?” he demanded, -lifting his face for a moment.</p> - -<p>It was not difficult to guess that something acute -had happened to him very recently. Jessie Mary -suddenly experienced a guilty pang. Yet why -Macgregor should have come back to her now was -beyond her comprehension. Yon yellow-haired girl -in the shop could not have told him anything—that -was certain. And though she had not really -wanted him back, now that he had come she was -fain to hold him once more. Such thoughts made -confusion in her mind, out of which two distinct, -ideas at last emerged: she did not care if she had -hurt the yellow-haired girl; she could not go to the -dance on Macgregor’s money.</p> - -<p>So gently, sadly, she told her lie; “Ay, there’s -somebody else, Macgreegor.” Which suggests -that no waist is too small to contain an appreciable -amount of heart and conscience.</p> - -<p>A brief pause, and Macgregor said drearily:</p> - -<p>“Aweel, it doesna matter.<a name="chg3" id="chg3"></a> I’ll awa’ hame.” -And went languidly down the stairs.</p> - -<p>“It doesna matter.” The words haunted -Jessie Mary that night, and it was days before she -got wholly rid of the uncomfortable feeling that -Macgregor had not really wanted her to go to the -dance, and that he had, in fact, been “codding” -her.</p> - -<p>Whereas, poor lad, he had only been “codding” -himself, or, at least, trying to do so. By the time -he reached the bottom step he had forgotten Jessie -Mary.</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>Once more he tramped the streets.</p> - -<p>At home Lizzie was showing her anxiety, and -John was concealing his.</p> - -<p>When, at long last, he entered the kitchen, he -did not appear to hear his mother’s “Whaur ha’e -ye been, laddie?” or his father’s “Ye’re late, ma -son.” Their looks of concern at his tired face and -muddy boots passed unobserved.</p> - -<p>Having unlaced his boots and rid his feet of -them more quietly than usual, he got up and went -to the table at which his mother was sitting.</p> - -<p>He took all the money—all—from his pockets -and laid it before her.</p> - -<p>“There’s a shillin’ each for Jeannie an’ Jimsie. -I’m no’ needin’ the rest. I’m wearied,” he said, -and went straightway to his own room.</p> - -<p>John got up and joined his wife at the table. -“Did I no’ tell ye,” he cried, triumphantly, “that -Macgreegor wud dae the richt thing?”</p> - -<p>Lizzie stared at the little heap of silver and -bronze.</p> - -<p>“John,” she whispered at last, and there was a -curious distressed note in her voice, “John, d’ye -no’ see?—he’s gi’ed me ower much!”</p> -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="linebox" /> -<h3 class="h3head">CHAPTER ELEVEN</h3> -<hr /> -<p class="p2"><span class="sc">As</span> a rule tonics are bitter, and their effects very -gradual, often so gradual as to be hardly noticeable -until one’s strength is put to some test. While it -would be unfair to deny the existence of “backbone” -in Macgregor, it is but just to grant that the -“backbone” required stiffening. And it is no -discredit to Macgregor that the tincture of Christina’s -hardier spirit which, along with her (to him) -abundant sweetness, he had been absorbing during -these past weeks, was the very tonic he needed, -the tonic without which he could not have acted as -he did on the Monday night following his dismissal.</p> - -<p>Of this action one may say, at first thought, that -it was simply the outcome of an outraged pride. -Yet Macgregor’s pride was at best a drowsy thing -until a girl stabbed it. It forced him to Jessie -Mary’s door, but there failed him. Throughout -the miserable Sunday it lay inert, with only an -occasional spasm. And though he went with it to -the encounter on Monday, he carried it as a -burden. His real supporters were Love and -Determination, and the latter was a new comrade, -welcome, but not altogether of his own inspiring.</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>He did not go to the shop, for he had neither -money nor the petty courage necessary to ask it of -his parents. On the pavement, a little way from -the door, he waited in a slow drizzle of rain. He -had no doubts as to what he was going to do and -say. The idea had been with him all day, from -early in the morning, and it <em>had</em> to be carried out. -Perhaps his nerves were a little too steady to be -described as normal.</p> - -<p>When eight o’clock struck on a neighbouring -tower, he did not start or stir. But across the -street, peering round the edge of a close-mouth, -another boy jerked his head at the sound. Willie -Thomson was exceedingly curious to know whether -Saturday night had seen the end of the matter.</p> - -<p>Christina, for no reason that she could have -given, was late in leaving the shop; it was twenty -minutes past the hour when she appeared.</p> - -<p>She approached quickly, but he was ready for her.</p> - -<p>“No!” she exclaimed at the sight of him.</p> - -<p>He stepped right in front of her. She was compelled -to halt, and she had nothing to say.</p> - -<p>He faced her fairly, and said—neither hotly -nor coldly, but with a slight throb in his voice:</p> - -<p>“I’ll be guid enough yet.” With a little nod as -if to emphasise his words, and without taking his -eyes from her face, he stood aside and let her go.</p> - -<p>Erect, he followed her with his eyes until the -darkness and traffic of the pavement hid her. -Then he seemed to relax, his shoulders drooped -slightly, and with eyes grown wistful he moved -slowly down the street towards home. Arrived -there he shut himself up with an old school -dictionary.</p> - -<p>Dull work, but a beginning....</p> - -<p>“Guid enough yet.” Christina had not gone far -when through all her resentment the full meaning -of the words forced itself upon her. “Oh,” she -told herself crossly, “I never meant him to take -it that way.” A little later she told herself the -same thing, but merely impatiently. And still -later, lying in the dark, she repeated it with a sob.</p> - -<p>As for the watcher, Willie Thomson, he set out -without undue haste to inform Jessie Mary that -once more Macgregor had been left standing alone -on the pavement. Somehow Willie was not particularly -pleased with himself this evening. Ere -his lagging feet had borne him half way to the -appointed place he was feeling sorry for Macgregor. -All at once he decided to spy no more. -It would be rather awkward just at present to -intimate such a decision to Jessie Mary, but he -could “cod” her, he thought, without much difficulty, -by inventing reports in the future. Cheered -by his virtuous resolutions, he quickened his pace.</p> - -<p>Jessie Mary received him in the close leading to -her abode. She was in an extraordinarily bad -temper, and cut short his report almost at the outset -by demanding to know when he intended -repaying the shilling he had borrowed a fortnight -previously.</p> - -<p>“Next week,” mumbled Willie, with that sad -lack of originality exhibited by nearly all harassed -borrowers.</p> - -<p>Whereupon Jessie Mary, who was almost a head -the taller, seized him by one ear and soundly cuffed -the other until with a yelp he broke loose and fled -into the night, never to know that he had been -punished for that unfortunate remark of Macgregor’s—“it -doesna matter.” Yet let us not -scoff at Jessie Mary’s sense of justice. The possessors -of greater minds than hers, having stumbled -against a chair, have risen in their wrath and kicked -the sofa—which is not at all to say that the sofa’s -past has been more blameless than the chair’s. -Life has a way of settling our accounts without -much respect for our book-keeping.</p> - -<p>Jessie Mary felt none the better of her outbreak. -She went to bed wishing angrily that she had taken -Macgregor at his word. The prospects of obtaining -an escort to the dance were now exceedingly -remote, for only that afternoon she had learned -that the bandy-legged young man in the warehouse -whom she had deemed “safe at a pinch,” and who -was the owner of a dress suit with a white vest, -had invited another girl and was actually going to -give her flowers to wear.</p> - -<p>Willie went to bed, too, earlier than usual, and -lay awake wondering, among other things, whether -his aching ear entitled him to a little further credit -in the matter of his debt to Jessie Mary—not that -any length of credit would have made payment -seem possible. For Willie was up to the neck in -debt, owing the appalling sum of five shillings and -ninepence to an old woman who sold newspapers, -paraffin oil and cheap cigarettes, and who was -already threatening to go to his aunt for her money—a -proceeding which would certainly result in -much misery for Willie. He was “out of a job” -again; but it isn’t easy to get work, more especially -when one prefers to do nothing. To some extent -Macgregor was to blame for his having got into -debt with the tobacconist, for if Macgregor had not -stopped smoking, Willie would not have needed to -buy nearly so many cigarettes. Nevertheless, -Willie’s thoughts did not dwell long or bitterly on -that point. Rather did they dwell on Macgregor -himself. And after a while Willie drew up his legs -and pulled the insufficient bedclothes over his head -and lay very still. This he had done since he was -a small boy, when lonesomeness got the better of -him, when he wished he had a father and mother -like Macgregor’s.</p> - -<p>And, as has been hinted, neither was Christina at -ease that night.</p> - -<p>Indeed, it were almost safe to say that of the -four young people involved in this little tragicomedy, -Macgregor, yawning over his old school -dictionary, was the least unhappy.</p> -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="linebox" /> -<h3 class="h3head">CHAPTER TWELVE</h3> -<hr /> -<p class="p2"><span class="sc">On</span> the fifth night, at the seventh page of words -beginning with a “D,” Macgregor closed the dictionary -and asked himself what was the good of it -all. His face was hot, his whole being restless. -He looked at his watch—a quarter to eight. He -got up and carefully placed the dictionary under a -copy of “Ivanhoe” on the chest of drawers. He -would go for a walk.</p> - -<p>He left the house quietly.</p> - -<p>In the kitchen Lizzie, pausing in her knitting, -said to John: “That’s Macgreegor awa’ oot.”</p> - -<p>“It’ll dae him nae harm,” said John. “He’s -becomin’ a great reader, Lizzie.”</p> - -<p>“I dinna see why he canna read ben here. It’s -cauld in his room. What’s he readin’?”</p> - -<p>“The book he got frae his Uncle Purdie three -year back.”</p> - -<p>“Weel, I’m sure I’m gled if he’s takin’ an -interest in it at last.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, ‘Ivanhoe’ ’s no’ a bad story,” remarked -John. “Whiles it’s fair excitin’.”</p> - -<p>Said Jimsie from the hearthrug: “He doesna -seem to enjoy it much, Paw.”</p> - -<p>“Weel, it’s no’ a funny book.”</p> - -<p>“It’s time ye was in yer bed, Jimsie,” said Mrs. -Robinson. “It’s ower late for ye.”</p> - -<p>“Aw, the wean’s fine,” said John.</p> - -<p>Jeannie laid down her sewing. “Come on, -Jimsie, an’ I’ll tell ye a wee story afore ye gang to -sleep.”</p> - -<p>“Chaps ye!” Jimsie replied, getting up.</p> - -<p>When the two had gone, Lizzie observed -casually: “It’s the first nicht Macgreegor’s been -oot this week.”</p> - -<p>“Weel, ye should be pleased, wumman.” John -smiled.</p> - -<p>A pause.</p> - -<p>“I wonder what made him gi’e up a’ his siller on -Seturday nicht.”</p> - -<p>“Same here. But I wudna ask him,” said John, -becoming grave. “Wud you?”</p> - -<p>She shook her head, “I tried to, on Sunday, -but some way I coudna. He’s changin’.”</p> - -<p>“He’s growin’ up, Lizzie.”<a name="chg2" id="chg2"></a></p> - -<p>“I suppose ye’re richt,” she said reluctantly, and -resumed her knitting.</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>From the darkest spot he could find on the opposite -pavement Macgregor saw Christina come out -of the shop, pass under a lamp, and disappear. He -felt sorely depressed during the return journey. -The dictionary had failed to increase either his -knowledge or his self-esteem. He wondered -whether History or Geography would do any good; -there were books on these subjects in the house. -He realised that he knew nothing about anything -except his trade, and even there he had to admit -that he had learned less than he might have done. -And yet he had always wanted to be a painter.</p> - -<p>The same night he started reading the History -of England, and found it a considerable improvement -on the Dictionary. He managed to keep -awake until the arrival of Julius Cæsar. Unfortunately -he had taken the book to bed, and his -mother on discovering it in the morning indiscreetly -asked him what he had been doing with it. -“Naething special,” was his reply, indistinctly -uttered, and here ended his historical studies, -though for days after Lizzie left the book -prominent on the chest of drawers.</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>The day being Saturday, the afternoon was his -own. Through the rain he made his way furtively -to a free library, but became too self-conscious at -the door, and fled. For the sum of threepence a -picture house gave him harbourage, and save when -the scenes were very exciting he spent the time in -trying not to wonder what Christina would think -of him, if she thought at all. He came forth -ashamed and in nowise cheered by the entertainment.</p> - -<p>In the evening he went once more to watch her -leave the shop. M. Tod came to the door with -her, and they stood talking for a couple of minutes, -so that he had more than a glimpse of her. And a -spirit arose in him demanding that he should -attempt something to prove himself, were it only -with his hands. It was not learning, but earning, -that would make him “guid enough yet”; not what -he could say, but what he could do. There would -be time enough for speaking “genteel English” and -so on after—well, after he had got up in the world.</p> - -<p>For a moment he felt like running after Christina -and making her hearken to his new hope, but -self-consciousness prevailed and sent him homewards.</p> - -<p>“Hullo!” From a close came a husky voice, -apologetic, appealing.</p> - -<p>“Hullo, Wullie!” Macgregor stopped. He -was not sorry to meet Willie; he craved companionship -just then, though he had no confidence to give.</p> - -<p>“Are ye for hame?”</p> - -<p>“Ay.”</p> - -<p>“I—I’ll come wi’ ye, if ye like, Macgreegor?”</p> - -<p>“Come on then.”</p> - -<p>Willie came out, and they proceeded along -the street without remark until Macgregor <span class="lock">enquired——</span></p> - -<p>“Where are ye workin’ the noo, Wullie?”</p> - -<p>“I’m no’ workin’. Canna get a job. Dae ye -ken o’ onything?”</p> - -<p>“Na. What kin’ o’ job dae ye want?”</p> - -<p>“Onything,” said Willie, and added quickly, -“An’ I’ll stick to it this time, if I get the chance.”</p> - -<p>After a short pause——“My fayther got ye a -job before,” said Macgregor.</p> - -<p>“I ken. But I wud <span class="lock">stick——”</span></p> - -<p>“Honest?”</p> - -<p>Willie drew his hand across his throat.</p> - -<p>“Weel,” said Macgregor, “I’ll tell ma fayther, -an’ ye can gang an’ see him at the works on -Monday.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll be there. Ye’re a dacent chap, Macgreegor.”</p> - -<p>Neither seemed to have anything more to say to -the other, but their parting was cordial enough.</p> - -<p>Next day, Sunday, was wet and stormy, and -there was no afternoon stroll of father and son to -the docks. John was flattered by Macgregor’s ill-concealed -disappointment—it was like old times. -Perhaps he would not have been less flattered had -he known his boy’s desire to tell him out of doors -a thing that somehow could not be uttered in the -house. Macgregor spent the afternoon in studying -secretly an old price-list of Purdie’s Stores.</p> - -<p>The following night, while returning from the -errand of previous nights, he again encountered -Willie.</p> - -<p>“So may fayther’s gaun to gi’e ye a job. He -tell’t me it was fixed.”</p> - -<p>“Ay,” said Willie, “but he canna tak’ me on for -a fortnicht.”</p> - -<p>“Weel, that’s no lang to wait.”</p> - -<p>For a few seconds Willie was mute; then he -blurted out—“I’m done for!”</p> - -<p>“Done for!” exclaimed Macgregor, startled by -the despair in the other’s voice. “What’s wrang, -Wullie?”</p> - -<p>“I’m in a mess. But it’s nae use tellin’ ye. Ye -canna dae onything.”</p> - -<p>“Is’t horses?” Macgregor asked presently.</p> - -<p>“Naw, it’s no’ horses!” Willie indignantly -replied.</p> - -<p>How virtuous we feel when accused of the one -sin we have not committed!</p> - -<p>The next moment he clutched Macgregor’s arm. -“Come in here, an’ I’ll tell ye.” He drew his companion -into a close. “I—I couldna tell onybody -else.”</p> - -<p>From the somewhat incoherent recital which -followed Macgregor finally gathered that the old -woman to whom Willie owed money had presented -her ultimatum. If Willie failed to pay up that -night she would assuredly not fail to apply to his -aunt first thing in the morning.</p> - -<p>“Never heed, Wullie,” said Macgregor, taking -his friend’s arm, and leading him homewards. -“Yer aunt’ll no’ kill ye.”</p> - -<p>“I wish to——​she wud!” muttered Willie with -a vehemence that shocked his friend. “She’s aye -been ill to live wi’, but it’ll be a sight harder noo.”</p> - -<p>“Wud the auld wife no’ believe ye aboot gettin’ -a job in a fortnicht? She wudna? Aweell, she’ll -believe me. Come on, an’ I’ll speak to her for ye.”</p> - -<p>But the “auld wife” was adamant. She had -been deceived with too many promises ere now. -At last Macgregor, feeling himself beaten, disconsolately -joined Willie and set out for home. -Neither spoke until Macgregor’s abode was reached. -Then Macgregor said:</p> - -<p>“Bide here till I come back,” and ran up the -stair. He knew his father was out, having gone -back to the works to experiment with some new -machinery. He found his mother alone in the -kitchen.</p> - -<p>“Mither,” he said with difficulty, “I wish ye -wud gi’e me five shillin’s o’ ma money.”</p> - -<p>He could not have startled her more thoroughly.</p> - -<p>“Five shillin’s, laddie! What for?”</p> - -<p>“I canna tell ye the noo.”</p> - -<p>“<span class="lock">But——”</span></p> - -<p>“It’s no’ for—for fun. If ye ask me, I’ll tell -ye in a secret this day fortnicht. Please, mither.”</p> - -<p>She got up and laid her hands on his shoulder -and turned him to the full light of the gas. He -looked at her shyly, yet without flinching. And -abruptly she kissed him, and as abruptly passed to -the dresser drawer where she kept her purse.</p> - -<p>Without a word she put the money in his hand. -Without a word he took it, nodded gravely, and -went out. In one way Lizzie had done more for -her boy in these three minutes than she had done -in the last three years.</p> - -<p>Macgregor had a sixpence in his pocket, and he -added it to the larger coins.</p> - -<p>“She can wait for her thruppence,” he said, -giving the money to the astounded Willie. “Awa’ -an’ pay her. I’ll maybe see ye the morn’s nicht. -So long!” He walked off in the direction opposite -to that which Willie ought to take.</p> - -<p>But Willie ran after him; he was pretty nearly -crying. “Macgreegor,” he stammered, “I’ll pay -ye back when I get ma first wages. An’ I’ll no’ -forget—oh, I’ll never forget. An’ I’ll dae ye a -guid turn yet!”</p> - -<p>“Ye best hurry in case she shuts her shop,” -said Macgregor, and so got rid of him.</p> - -<p>While it is disappointing to record that Willie -has thus far never managed to repay Macgregor -in hard cash, though he has somehow succeeded in -retaining the employment found for him by John, -it is comforting to know that his promise to do -Macgregor a good turn was more than just an -emotional utterance. When, on the following -Wednesday and Friday nights, he stealthily tracked -Macgregor to the now familiar watching place, his -motives were no longer curious or selfish, but -benevolent in the extreme. Not that he could -bring himself to sympathise with Macgregor in the -latter’s devotion to a mere girl, for, as a matter of -fact, he regarded his friend’s behaviour as “awfu’ -stupid”; but if Macgregor was really “saft” on -the girl, it behoved him, Willie, to do what he -could to put an end to the existing misunderstanding.</p> - -<p>On the Friday night he came regretfully to the -conclusion that the “saftness” was incurable, and -he accordingly determined to act on the following -afternoon. By this time his knowledge of the -movements of M. Tod and her assistant was practically -as complete as Macgregor’s, so that he had -no hesitation in choosing the hour for action. He -had little fear of Macgregor’s coming near the -shop in daylight.</p> - -<p>So, having witnessed the exit of M. Tod, he -crossed the street, and examined the contents of -the window, as he had seen Macgregor do so -often. He was not in the least nervous. The fact -that he was without money did not perturb him: -it would be the simplest thing in the world to introduce -himself and his business by asking for an -article which stationers’ shops did not supply. A -glance at a druggist’s window had given him the -necessary suggestion.</p> - -<p>On entering he was seized with a most distressing -cough, which racked him while he closed -the door and until he reached the counter.</p> - -<p>“A cold afternoon,” Christina remarked in a -sympathetic tone.</p> - -<p>“Ay. Ha’e ye ony chest protectors?” he -hoarsely enquired.</p> - -<p>For the fraction of a second only she hesitated. -“Not exactly,” she replied. “But I can recommend -this.” From under the counter she brought -a quire of brown paper. “It’s cheaper than flannel -and much more sanitary,” she went on. “There’s -nothing like it for keeping out the cold. You’ve -only got to cut out the shape that suits you.” -She separated a sheet from the quire and spread -it on the counter. “Enough there for a dozen -protectors. Price one penny. I’ll cut them out -for you, if you like.”</p> - -<p>“The doctor said I was to get a flannel yin,” -said Willie, forgetting his hoarseness. “Ha’e ye -ony nice ceegarettes the day, miss?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“Will ye ha’e ony on Monday?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“When d’ye think ye’ll ha’e some nice ceegarettes?”</p> - -<p>Christina’s eyes smiled. “Perhaps,” she said -solemnly, “by the time you’re big enough to -smoke them. Anything else to-day?”</p> - -<p>“Ye’re no’ sae green,” he said, with grudging -admiration.</p> - -<p>“No,” said she; “it’s only the reflection.” She -opened the glass case and took out an infant’s -rattle. “Threepence!”</p> - -<p>Willie laughed. “My! ye’re a comic!” he -exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“Children are easily amused.”</p> - -<p>There was a short pause. Then Willie, leaning -his arms on the edge of the counter, looked up in -her face and said:</p> - -<p>“So you’re the girl that’s mashed on Macgreegor -Robi’son.” He grinned.</p> - -<p>A breath of silence—a sounding smack.</p> - -<p>Willie sprang back, his hand to his cheek. -Christina, cheeks flaming, eyes glistening, teeth -gleaming, hands clenched, drew herself up and faced -him.</p> - -<p>“Get oot o’ this!” she cried. “D’ye hear me! -Get <span class="lock">oot——”</span></p> - -<p>“Ay, I hear ye,” said Willie resentfully, rubbing -his cheek. “Ye’re ower smart wi’ yer han’s. -I meant for to <span class="lock">say——”</span></p> - -<p>“Be quiet!”</p> - -<p>“—you’re the girl Macgreegor’s mashed on—an’ -<span class="lock">I——”</span></p> - -<p>Christina stamped her foot. “Clear oot, I tell -ye!”</p> - -<p>“—I wudna be Macgreegor for a thoosan’ -pounds! Keep yer hair on, miss. I’ll gang when -it suits me. Ye’ve got to <span class="lock">hear——”</span></p> - -<p>“I’ll no’ listen.” She put her hands to her ears.</p> - -<p>“Thon girl, Jessie Mary, took a rise oot o’ ye -last week, an’ it was me that put her up to it. -Macgreegor gi’ed her the belt, richt enough, but -that was afore he got saft on <span class="lock">you——”</span></p> - -<p>“Silence! I cannot hear a word you say,” -declared Christina, recovering herself and her -more formal speech, though her colour, which had -faded, now bloomed again.</p> - -<p>“I’ll cry it loud, if ye like, so as the folk in the -street can hear. But ye can pretend ye dinna -hear,” he said ironically. “I’m no’ heedin’ -whether ye hear or no’.”</p> - -<p>“I wish you would go away, you impertinent -thing!”</p> - -<p>“Macgreegor——” he began.</p> - -<p>Once more she covered her ears.</p> - -<p>“Macgreegor,” proceeded Willie, with a rude -wink, “never had ony notion o’ takin’ Jessie Mary -to the dance. She was jist coddin’ ye, though I -daursay she was kin’ o’ jealous because ye had cut -her oot. So I think ye should mak’ it up wi’ Macgreegor -when ye get the chance. He’s awfu’ saft -on ye. I wudna be him for <span class="lock">a——”</span></p> - -<p>“Go away!” said Christina. “You’re simply -wasting your breath.”</p> - -<p>“Dinna let on to Macgreegor that I tell’t ye,” -he continued, unmoved, “an’,<a name="chg1" id="chg1"></a> if Jessie Mary tries it -on again, jist you put yer finger to yer nose at her.”</p> - -<p>“If you don’t go at once, I’<span class="lock">ll——”</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, ye canna dae onything, miss. I’ll forgi’e -ye for that scud ye gi’ed me, but I wud advise ye -no’ to be so quick wi’ yer han’s in future, or ye’ll -maybe get into trouble.” He turned towards the -door. “I daursay ye ken fine that Macgreegor -watches ye leavin’ the shop every <span class="lock">nicht——”</span></p> - -<p>“What <em>are</em> you talking about?”</p> - -<p>“Gi’e him a whistle or a wave the next time. -There’s nae use in bein’ huffy.”</p> - -<p>“That’s enough!”</p> - -<p>Willie opened the door. “An’ ye best hurry up, -or ye’ll maybe loss him. So long. I’ll no’ tell -him I seen ye blushin’.”</p> - -<p>Christina opened her mouth, but ere she could -speak, with a grin and a wink he was gone. She -collapsed upon the stool. She had never been so -angry in her life—at least, so she told herself.</p> -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="linebox" /> -<h3 class="h3head">CHAPTER THIRTEEN</h3> -<hr /> -<p class="p2"><span class="sc">John Robinson</span> and his son sat on a pile of timber -at the docks. Dusk was falling, and the air -that had been mild for the season was growing chill.</p> - -<p>John replaced his watch in his pocket. “It’s -comin’ on for tea-time. Are ye ready for the -road, Macgreegor?”</p> - -<p>“Ay,” said the boy, without stirring.</p> - -<p>For two hours he had been struggling to utter the -words on which he believed his future depended.</p> - -<p>“Weel,” said John, getting out his pipe preparatory -to lighting it on passing the gate, “we best be -movin’.”</p> - -<p>It was now or never. Macgregor cleared his -throat.</p> - -<p>“The pentin’ trade’s rotten,” he said in a voice -not his own.</p> - -<p>“Eh?” said John, rather staggered by the -statement which was without relevance to any of -the preceding conversation. “What’s rotten aboot -it?”</p> - -<p>“Everything.”</p> - -<p>“That’s the first I’ve heard o’ ’t. In fac’, I’m -tell’t the pentin’ trade is extra brisk the noo.”</p> - -<p>“That’s no’ what I meant,” Macgregor forced -himself to say. “I meant it was a rotten trade to -be in.”</p> - -<p>John gave a good-humoured laugh. “Oh, I -see! Ye dinna like the overtime! Aweel, that’s -nateral at your age, Macgreegor”—he patted his -son’s shoulder—“but when ye’re aulder, wi’ a -wife an’ weans, maybe, ye’ll be gled o’ overtime -whiles, I’m thinkin’.”</p> - -<p>“It’s no the overtime,” said Macgregor.</p> - -<p>“What is’t, then? What’s wrang wi’ the -trade?” The question was lightly put.</p> - -<p>“There’s—there’s nae prospec’s in it for a -man.”</p> - -<p>“Nae prospec’s! Hoots, Macgreegor! there’s -as guid prospec’s in the pentin’ as in ony ither -trade. Dinna fash yer heid aboot that—no’ but -what I’m pleased to ken ye’re thinkin’ aboot yer -prospec’s, ma son. But we’ll speak aboot it on the -road hame.”</p> - -<p>“I wish,” said Macgregor, with the greatest -effort of all, “I wish I had never gaed into it. I -wish I had gaed into Uncle Purdie’s business.”</p> - -<p>John sat down again. At last he said: “D’ye -mean that, Macgreegor?”</p> - -<p>“Ay, I mean it.”</p> - -<p>For the first time within his memory John Robinson -felt disappointed—in a vague fashion, it is -true, yet none the less unpleasantly disappointed—in -his son.</p> - -<p>“But ye’ve been at the pentin’ for three year,” -he said a little impatiently.</p> - -<p>“I ken that, fayther.”</p> - -<p>“An’ ye mind ye had the chance o’ gaun into yer -uncle’s business when ye left the schule?”</p> - -<p>“Ay.”</p> - -<p>“But ye wud ha’e naething but the pentin’.”</p> - -<p>Macgregor nodded.</p> - -<p>“Maybe ye mind that yer Aunt Purdie was unco -offended, for it was her notion—at least, it was -her that spoke aboot it—an’ she declared ye wud -never get a second chance. D’ye no’ mind, Macgreegor?”</p> - -<p>“I mind aboot her bein’ offended, but I dinna -mind aboot—the ither thing,” Macgregor answered -dully.</p> - -<p>“But <em>I</em> mind it, for she was rale nesty to yer -mither at the time. In fac’, I dinna ken hoo yer -mither stood her impiddence. An’, in a way, it -was a’ ma fau’t, for it was me that said ye was to -choose the trade that ye liked best—an’ I thocht -I was daein’ the richt thing, because I had seen -lads spiled wi’ bein’ forced into trades they didna -fancy. Ay, I thocht I was daein’ the richt thing——​An’ -noo ye’re tellin’ me I did the wrang -thing.”</p> - -<p>“Fayther, it’s me that’s to blame. I—I didna -mean to vex ye.”</p> - -<p>“Aweel, I dinna suppose ye did,” said John -sadly. “But for the life o’ me I canna see hoo ye -can hope to get into yer uncle’s business at this time -o’ day.... But we’ll be keepin’ yer mither -waitin’.”</p> - -<p>He rose slowly and Macgregor joined him. At -the gate John apparently forgot to light his pipe. -They were half way home ere he spoke.</p> - -<p>He put his hand round his son’s arm. “Ye’re -no’ to think, Macgreegor, that I wud stan’ in yer -road when ye want to better yersel’. No’ likely! -I never was set on bein’ a wealthy man masel’, but -naethin’ wud mak’ me prooder nor to see you gang -up in the world; an’ I can say the same for yer -mither. An’ I can see that ye micht gang far in -yer uncle’s business, for yer uncle was aye fond o’ -ye, an’ I think ye could manage to please him at yer -work, if ye was tryin’. <em>But</em>—ye wud need yer -aunt’s favour to begin wi’, an’ that’s the bitter -truth, an’ she’s no’ the sort o’ body that forgets -what she conseeders an affront. Weel, it’ll need -some thinkin’ ower. I’ll ha’e to see what yer -mither says. An’ ye best no’ expec’ onything. -Stick to the pentin’ in the meantime, an’ be vera -certain afore ye quit the trade ye’re in. That’s a’ -I can say, ma son.”</p> - -<p>Macgregor had no words then. Never before -had his father seriously spoken at such length to -him. His heart was heavy, troubled about many -things.</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>Eight o’clock on Monday night saw him at the -accustomed spot; on Wednesday night also he was -there. If only Christina had been friends with -him he would have asked her what he ought to do. -Yet the mere glimpse of her confirmed him in his -desire to change his trade. On the Wednesday -night it seemed to him that she walked away from -the shop much more slowly than usual, and the -horrid thought that she might be giving some other -“man” a chance to overtake her assailed him. -But at last she was gone without that happening.</p> - -<p>On the way home he encountered Jessie Mary. -She greeted him affably, and he could not but stop.</p> - -<p>“Lovely dance on Friday. Ye should ha’e been -there. Ma belt was greatly admired,” she remarked.</p> - -<p>“Was it?”</p> - -<p>“I think I’ve seen the shop where ye bought it,” -she said, watching his face covertly.</p> - -<p>It’s likely,” he replied, without emotion.</p> - -<p>Jessie Mary was relieved; evidently he was without -knowledge of her visit to the shop. Now that -the world was going well with her again she bore -no ill-will, and was fain to avoid any. For at the -eleventh hour—or, to be precise, the night before -the dance—she had miraculously won back the -allegiance of the young man with the exquisite -moustache, who served in the provision shop, and -for the present she was more than satisfied with -herself.</p> - -<p>So she bade Macgregor good-night, a little -patronisingly perhaps, and hurried off to reward -her recovered swain with the pleasant sight of -herself and an order for a finnan haddie.</p> - -<p>Macgregor was still in the dark as to whether his -father had mentioned to his mother the subject of -that conversation at the docks. John had not -referred to it again, and the boy was beginning to -wonder if his case was hopeless.</p> - -<p>On the Friday night, however, just when he was -about to slip from the house, his mother followed -him to the door. Very quietly she said:</p> - -<p>“When ye come in, Macgreegor, I want ye to -tell me if ye’re still set on leavin’ the pentin’. -Dinna tell me noo. Tak’ yer walk, an’ think it -ower, seriouslike. But dinna be late, laddie.”</p> - -<p>She went back to the kitchen, leaving him to shut -the door.</p> - -<p>It was not much after seven o’clock, but he went -straightway in the direction of M. Tod’s shop. -For the first time in what seemed an age, he found -himself at the familiar, glittering window. And -lo! the glazed panel at the back was open a few -inches. Quickly he retreated to the edge of the -pavement, and stood there altogether undecided. -But desire drew him, and gradually he approached -the window again.</p> - -<p>Christina was sitting under the lamp, at the desk, -her pretty profile bent over her writing, her fair -plait falling over the shoulder of her scarlet shirt. -She was engaged in pencilling queer little marks on -paper, and doing so very rapidly. Macgregor -understood that she was practising shorthand. No -doubt she would be his uncle’s private secretary -some day, while <span class="lock">he——</span></p> - -<p>All at once it came to him that no one in the -world could answer the great question but Christina. -If the thing didn’t matter to Christina, it -didn’t matter to him; it was for her sake that he -would strive to be “guid enough yet,” not for the -sake of being “guid enough” in itself. Besides, -she had put the idea into his head. Surely she -would not refuse to speak to him on that one -subject.</p> - -<p>Now all this was hardly in accordance with the -brave and independent plan which Macgregor had -set out to follow—to wit, that he would not -attempt to speak to Christina until he could announce -that he was a member of his uncle’s staff. -Yes, love is the great maker of plans—also, the -great breaker.</p> - -<p>Coward or not, it took courage to enter the shop.</p> - -<p>Christina looked up, her colour deepening -slightly.</p> - -<p>“Hullo,” she said coolly, though not coldly.</p> - -<p>It was not a snub anyway, and Macgregor -walked up to the counter. He came to the point -at once.</p> - -<p>“Wud ye advise me to try an’ get a job frae ma -uncle?” he said, distinctly enough.</p> - -<p>“Me?” The syllable was fraught with intense -astonishment.</p> - -<p>“Ye advised me afore to try it,” he said, fairly -steadily.</p> - -<p>“Did I?”—carelessly.</p> - -<p>It was too much for him. “Oh, Christina!” he -whispered reproachfully.</p> - -<p>“Well, I’m sure it’s none of my business. I -thought you preferred being a painter.”</p> - -<p>The pity was that Christina should have just then -remembered the existence of such a person as -Jessie Mary, also the fact of her own slow walk -from the shop the previous night. Yet she had -forgotten both when she opened the panel at the -back of the window a few inches. And perhaps -she was annoyed with herself, knowing that she -was not behaving quite fairly.</p> - -<p>He let her remark concerning his preference for -the painting pass, and put a very direct question.</p> - -<p>“What made ye change yer mind aboot me that -night?”</p> - -<p>“What night?” she asked flippantly, and told -herself it was the silliest thing she had ever uttered.</p> - -<p>She had gone too far—she saw it in his face.</p> - -<p>“I didna think ye was as bad as that,” he said -in a curiously hard voice, and turned from the -counter.</p> - -<p>Quick anger—quick compunction—quick fear—and -then:</p> - -<p>“Mac!”</p> - -<p>He wheeled at the door. She was holding out -her hand. Her smile was frail.</p> - -<p>“Are ye in earnest?” he said in a low voice, -but he did not wait for her answer.</p> - -<p>She drew away her hand, gently. “Dinna ask -me ony questions,” she pleaded. “I—I didna -really mean what I said that night, or this night -either. I think I was off my onion”—a faint -laugh—“but I’m sorry I behaved the way I did. -Is that enough?”</p> - -<p>It was more than enough; how much more he -could not say. “I’ve missed ye terrible,” he -murmured.</p> - -<p>Christina became her practical self. “So ye’re -for tryin’ yer uncle’s business——” she began.</p> - -<p>“If he’ll gi’e me the chance.”</p> - -<p>“Weel, I’m sure I wish ye the best o’ luck.”</p> - -<p>“Then ye think I ought to try?” This with -great eagerness.</p> - -<p>“If ye’ve made up yer mind it’s for the best,” -she answered cautiously.</p> - -<p>He had to be satisfied with that. “Will I let ye -ken if it comes off?”</p> - -<p>She nodded. Then she glanced at her watch.</p> - -<p>“Can—can I get walkin’ hame wi’ ye, Christina?” -It was out before he knew.</p> - -<p>She shook her head. “Uncle said he wud come -for me; he had some business up this way. If ye -wait a minute, ye’ll see him. I’ll introduce ye. -He’ll be interested seein’ ye’re a nephew o’ Mr. -Purdie.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I couldna. I best hook it. But, Christina, -I can come to-morrow, eh?”</p> - -<p>She laughed. “I canna prevent ye. But I’ll -no’ be here in the afternoon. Uncle’s takin’ auntie -an’ me to a matinée, an’ I’ll no’ be back much afore -six.”</p> - -<p>“Weel, I’ll meet ye at eight an’ walk hame wi’ -ye.”</p> - -<p>“Will ye?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Christina; say ’ay.’”</p> - -<p>“I’ll consider it.”</p> - -<p>And he had to be satisfied with that, too, for -at this point the noisy door opened to admit a -tall, clean-shaven, pleasant-featured man of middle-age.</p> - -<p>“Hullo, uncle!” cried Christina.</p> - -<p>Macgregor fled, but not without gaining a quick -smile that made all the difference in the world to -him.</p> - -<p>Ten minutes later he hurried into the home -kitchen.</p> - -<p>“Mither, I’ve decided to leave the pentin’.” -The moment he said it his heart misgave him, and -the colour flew to his face. But he need not have -doubted his parents.</p> - -<p>“Weel, ma son,” said John soberly, “we’ll dae -the best we can wi’ yer Aunt Purdie.”</p> - -<p>“Jist that,” said Lizzie.</p> - -<p>And that was all.</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>An urgent piece of work had to be done the -following afternoon, and he was later than usual, -for a Saturday, in getting home. He found his -mother preparing to go out, and his father looking -strangely perplexed.</p> - -<p>“She’s gaun to see yer Aunt Purdie,” said John -in a whisper.</p> - -<p>Macgregor looked from one to the other, hesitated, -and went over to Lizzie. He put his hand -on her arm.</p> - -<p>“Mither, ye’re no’ to gang. I—I’ll gang -masel’.”</p> - -<p>Then, indeed, Lizzie Robinson perceived that -her boy was in danger of becoming a man.</p> -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="linebox" /> -<h3 class="h3head">CHAPTER FOURTEEN</h3> -<hr /> -<p class="p2"><span class="sc">To</span> press the little black button at the door of -his aunt’s handsome west-end flat was the biggest -thing Macgregor had ever done. As a small boy -he had feared his Aunt Purdie, as a schoolboy he -had hated her, as a youth he had despised her; his -feelings towards her now were not to be described, -but it is certain that they included a well-nigh -overpowering sense of dread; indeed, the faint -thrill of the electric bell sent him back a pace -towards the stair. His state of perspiration gave -place to one of miserable chillness.</p> - -<p>A supercilious servant eyed his obviously -“good” clothes and bade him wait. Nevertheless, -a sting was what Macgregor needed just then; it -roused the fighting spirit. When the servant returned, -and in an aloof fashion—as though, after -all, it was none of her business—suggested that -he might enter, he was able to follow her across -the hall, with its thick rugs and pleasantly warm -atmosphere, to the drawing-room, without faltering. -Less than might have been expected the -grandeur of his surroundings impressed—or -depressed—him, for in the course of his trade he -had grown familiar with the houses of the rich. -But he had enough to face in the picture without -looking at the frame.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Purdie was seated at the side of the glowing -hearth, apparently absorbed in the perusal of a -charitable society’s printed list of donations.</p> - -<p>“Your nephew, ma’am,” the servant respectfully -announced and retired.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Purdie rose in a manner intended to be -languid. Macgregor had not seen the large yet -angular figure for two years. With his hat in his -left hand he went forward holding out his right. -A stiff, brief handshake followed.</p> - -<p>“Well, Macgregor, this is quite an unexpected -pleasure,” she said, unsmiling, resuming her seat. -“Take a chair. It is a considerable period since -I observed you last.” Time could not wither the -flowers of language for Mrs. Purdie. “You are -getting quite a big boy. How old are you now? -Are your parents in good health?” She did not -wait for answers to these inquiries. “I am sorry -your uncle is not at home. His commercial pursuits -confine him to his new and commodious -premises even on Saturday afternoons.” (At that -moment Mr. Purdie was smoking a pipe in the -homely parlour of Christina’s uncle, awaiting his -old friend’s return from the theatre.) “His -finance is exceedingly high at present.” With a -faint smack of her lips she paused, and cast an -inquiring glance at her visitor.</p> - -<p>Macgregor saw the ice, so to speak, before him. -The time had come. But he did not go tapping -round the edge. Gathering himself together, he -leaped blindly.</p> - -<p>In a few ill-chosen words he blurted out his -petition.</p> - -<p>Then there fell an awful silence. And then—he -could hardly believe his own ears!</p> - -<p>There are people in the world who seem hopelessly -unloveable until you—perforce, perhaps—ask -of them a purely personal favour. There may -even be people who leave the world with their -fountains of goodwill still sealed simply because -no one had the courage or the need to break the -seals for them. Until to-day the so-called favours -of Aunt Purdie had been mere patronage and cash -payments.</p> - -<p>Even now she could not help speaking patronisingly -to Macgregor, but through the patronage -struggled a kindliness and sympathy of which her -relations so long used to her purse-pride, her affectations, -her absurdities, could never have imagined -her capable. She made no reference to the past; -she suggested no difficulties for the present; she cast -no doubts upon the future. Her nephew, she declared, -had done wisely in coming to her; she -would see to it that he got his chance. It seemed -to Macgregor that she promised him ten times all -he would have dreamed of asking. Finally she -bade him stay to dinner and see his uncle; then perceiving -his anxiety to get home and possibly, also, -his dread of offending her by expressing it, she -invited him for the following Sunday evening, and -sent him off with a full heart and a light head.</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>He burst into the kitchen, bubbling over with -his wonderful news. During its recital John gave -vent to noisy explosions of satisfaction, Jeannie -beamed happily, Jimsie stared at his transformed -big brother, and Lizzie, though listening with all -her ears, began quietly to prepare her son’s tea.</p> - -<p>“An’ so she treated ye weel, Macgreegor,” said -John, rubbing his hands, while the speaker paused -for words.</p> - -<p>“She did that! An’ I’m to get dooble the -wages I’m gettin’ the noo, an’ I’ve to spend the -half o’ them on night classes, for, ye see, I’m to -learn <em>everything</em> aboot the business, an’ <span class="lock">then——”</span></p> - -<p>Said Lizzie gently: “Wud ye like yer egg biled -or fried, dearie?”</p> - -<p class="center"> *  *  *  *  *  </p> - -<p>It was nearly eight o’clock when he reached the -shop, and he decided to wait at a short distance -from the window until Christina came out. He -was not going to risk interruption by the old woman -or a late customer; he would tell his wonderful -tale in the privacy of the busy pavement, under -the secrecy of the noisy street. Yet he was desperately -impatient, and with every minute after the -striking of the hour a fresh doubt assailed him.</p> - -<p>At last the lights in the window went out, and -the world grew brighter. Presently he was moving -to meet her, noting dimly that she was wearing -a bigger hat than heretofore.</p> - -<p>The affected surprise at the sight of him, but -not at his eagerly whispered announcement:</p> - -<p>“I’ve got it!”</p> - -<p>“Good for you,” she said kindly, and refrained -from asking him, teasingly, where he thought he -was going. “It was lovely at the theatre,” she -remarked, stepping forward.</p> - -<p>“Dae ye no’ want to hear aboot it?” he asked, -disappointed, catching up with her.</p> - -<p>“Of course,” she said cheerfully. “Was yer -uncle nice?”</p> - -<p>“It was ma aunt,” he explained somewhat reluctantly, -for he feared she might laugh. But she -only nodded understandingly, and, relieved, he -plunged into details.</p> - -<p>“Ye’ve done fine,” she said when he had finished—for -the time being, at anyrate. “I’m afraid -it’ll be you that’ll be wantin’ a private secretary -when I get that length.”</p> - -<p>“Dinna laugh at me,” he murmured reproachfully.</p> - -<p>“Dinna be ower serious, Mac,” she returned. -“Ye’ll get on a’ the better for bein’ able to tak’ a -joke whiles. I’m as pleased as Punch aboot -it.”</p> - -<p>He was more pleased, if possible. “If it hadna -been for you, Christina, I wud never ha’e had the -neck to try it,” he said warmly.</p> - -<p>“I believe ye!” she said quaintly.</p> - -<p>“But it’s the truth—an’ I’ll never forget it.”</p> - -<p>“A guid memory’s a gran’ thing! An’ when -dae ye start wi’ yer uncle?”</p> - -<p>“Monday week.”</p> - -<p>“That’s quick work. Ye’ve beat me a’ to -sticks. Dinna get swelled heid!”</p> - -<p>“Christina, I wish ye <span class="lock">wudna——”</span></p> - -<p>“I canna help it. It’s the theatre, I suppose. -Oh, I near forgot to tell ye, yer uncle was in when -we got hame frae the theatre. I hadna time to -speak to him, for I had to run back to the shop. -Hadna even time to change ma dress. I think yer -uncle whiles gets tired o’ bein’ a rich man an’ livin’ -in a swell house. Maybe <em>you’ll</em> feel that way some -day.”</p> - -<p>He let her run on, now and then glancing wistfully -at her pretty, animated face. The happiness, -the triumph, he had anticipated were not his. But -all the more they were worth working for.</p> - -<p>So they came to the place where she lived.</p> - -<p>“Come up,” she said easily; “I tell’t auntie I -wud maybe bring ye up for supper.”</p> - -<p>Doubtless it was the shock of gratification as -much as anything that caused him to hang back. -She had actually mentioned him to her aunt!</p> - -<p>“Will ma uncle be there?” he stammered at last.</p> - -<p>“Na, na. Ye’ll see plenty o’ <em>him</em> later on!”</p> - -<p>“Maybe yer aunt winna be <span class="lock">pleased——”</span></p> - -<p>“Come on, Mac! Ye’re ower shy for this -world!” she laughed encouragingly.</p> - -<p>They went up together.</p> - -<p>Christina had a latch-key, and on opening the -door, said:</p> - -<p>“Oh, they haven’t come home yet. Out for a -walk, I suppose. But they’ll be home in a minute. -Come in. There’s a peg for your hat.”</p> - -<p>She led the way into a fire-lit room and turned -up the gas. Macgregor saw a homely, cosy -parlour, something like his grandfather’s at Rothesay, -but brighter generally. A round table was -trimly laid for supper. In the window a small -table supported a typewriter and a pile of printed -and manuscript books, the sight of which gave him -a sort of sinking feeling.</p> - -<p>“Sit down,” she said, indicating an easy-chair. -“Auntie and uncle won’t be long.”</p> - -<p>He took an ordinary chair, and tried hard to look -at his ease.</p> - -<p>As she took off her hat at the mirror over the -mantelpiece she remarked: “You’ll like uncle at -once, and you’ll like auntie before long. She’s still -a wee bit prim.”</p> - -<p>He noticed that her speech had changed with -entering the house, but somehow the “genteel -English” did not seem so unnatural now. He -supposed he would have to learn to speak it, too, -presently.</p> - -<p>“But she is the best woman in the world,” -Christina continued, patting her hair, “and she’ll -be delighted about you going into your uncle’s business. -I think it was splendid of you managing -your aunt so well.”</p> - -<p>Macgregor smiled faintly. “I doobt it was her -that managed me,” he said. “But, Christina, I’ll -no’ let her be sorry—nor—nor you either.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m sure you’ll get on quickly,” she said, -gravely, bending to unbutton her long coat.</p> - -<p>“I intend to dae that,” he cried, uplifted by her -words. “Gi’e me a year or twa, an’ I’ll show ye!”</p> - -<p>She slipped out of the coat, and stood for a -moment, faintly smiling, in her best frock, a simple -thing of pale grey lustre relieved with white, her -best black shoes, her best thread stockings, her -heavy yellow plait over her left shoulder.</p> - -<p>The boy caught his breath.</p> - -<p>“Just a minute,” she said, and left the room to -put away her coat and hat.</p> - -<p>Macgregor half turned in his chair, threw his -arms upon the back and pressed his brow to his -wrist.</p> - -<p>So she found him on her return.</p> - -<p>“Sore head, Mac?” she asked gently, recovering -from her surprise, and going close to him.</p> - -<p>“Let me gang,” he whispered; “I—I’ll never -be guid enough.”</p> - -<p>The slight sound of a key in the outer door -reached the girl’s ears. She gave her eyes an impatient -little rub.</p> - -<p>She laid a hand on his shoulder.</p> - -<p>“Cheer up!” she said, almost roughly, and -stooping quickly, she touched her lips to his hair, -so lightly, so tenderly, that he was not aware.</p> -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="linebox" /> -<h4 class="h4head">Transcriber’s Note</h4> -<hr /> - -<p class="p2">Dialect, inconsistent hyphenation, obsolete words and -misspellings were left unchanged.</p> - -<p>The following were adjusted: </p> - -<ul class="none"> -<li> … unmoved, “an<a href="#chg1">’ [added apostrophe]</a>, if … </li> -<li> … “He’s growin’ up, Lizzie.<a href="#chg2">” [added missing close quote]</a></li> -<li> … it doesna matter.<a href="#chg3">” [deleted close quote]</a> I’ll awa’ hame.”</li> -</ul> -</div><!--end chapter--> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Courtin' Christina, by J. J. 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