“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.