"Aw was just funnin'," she said kindly, "Aw dinna want ye to dee. Aw wud greet." "You would forget me in a week, Jan." "Na Aw wudna," she protested. "Aw wud put flowers on yer grave ilka Sabbath, and Aw wud cut oot the verse o' pottery in the paper. Aw cut oot the verse aboot my auntie Liz." "What was it?" "Aw dinna mind, but it was something like this:-- "We think, when we look at yer vacant chair, Of yer dear old face and yer grey hair, But ye are away to the land of above Where ye'll never more have care." "Very nice, Jan. Now you'll better set about composing a verse for me." "A' richt," she laughed, "we'll mak a line each, and here's the first one:-- "'He was goin' to be marrit, but he dee'd afore his time "You mak the next line, Annie." "'And Jim Jackson ate so muckle at the funeral that he got a sair wime.'" "Nane o' yer lip," growled Jim. "Come on, Gladys," I said, "third line." "'He dee'd o' effielinza, and he'll no hae ony mair pain." "Last line, Ellen!" "'But in the Better Land we'll maybe meet him again.'" "There shud be something aboot 'gone but not forgotten,'" said Jim. "When auld Rab Smith dee'd his wife had 'gone but not forgotten' in the papers ... and the corp wasna oot o' the hoose." "Aw've got a new frock," said Janet, and the conversation took a cheerier direction. On the following evening Margaret came in when they were with me. "Come on!" cried Janet, "we'll mak Maggie kiss him!" and they seized her. "No," I said, "influenza is catching, and I don't want Margaret to be ill." "Eh!" cried Annie, "d'ye think we believe that? Aw believe she's kissed ye a hunder times since ye was badly." "Not a hundred, Annie," I said; "the truth is that she kissed me once; I had just taken my dose of Gregory's Mixture, and she vowed that she would never kiss me again." "Aw wud chuck him up if Aw was you, Maggie," said Jean, "he tells far ower many lees." "Should I?" laughed Margaret. "Aye," cried Jean with delight, "gie him back his ring!" Margaret drew off her ring and handed it to me, and the girls clapped their hands gleefully. "Very good," I said resignedly, "you girls will better cancel the orders for wedding frocks. And, Jean, just look in and tell Jim Jackson not to buy a new dickie, will you?" The girls looked at each other doubtfully. "Ye're just funnin'," said Jean with a forced laugh. "Funning? My dear Jean, when a girl hands back the engagement ring, do you mean to tell me she is funning?" Children live in two lands--the land of reality and the land of make-believe. A serious look will make them jump from the one to the other. They looked at my serious face and believed that Margaret had really given me up. Then they glanced at Margaret; she laughed, and their clouded faces cleared. I knew that they would try to make me believe that they still considered I was in earnest. "Aw'll cry in and tell Jim aboot the dickie," said Jean.