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.”