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.