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.