Christina was not prepared for such a happening; still, her wits did not desert her. She liked sweets, but on no account was she going to have her acceptance of the gift misconstrued. She glanced at Macgregor, whose eyes did not meet hers; she glanced at the package; she glanced once more at Macgregor, and gently uttered the solitary word: “Platonic?” “Na,” he replied. “Jujubes.” Christina bit her lip. “D’ye no’ like them?” he asked anxiously. The matter had got beyond her. She put out her hand and took the gift, saying: “Thank ye, Mac; they’re ma favourite sweeties. But――ye’re no’ to dae it again.” “What kin’ o’ sweeties did ye think they was?” he asked, breaking a short silence. “Oh, it’s o’ nae consequence,” she lightly replied. “D’ye no’ want to hear ma bit o’ news?” “’Deed, ay, Christina.” Now more at ease, he settled himself on the chair by the counter. “Weel,――ye’ll excuse me no’ samplin’ the jujubes the noo; it micht be awkward if a customer was comin’――weel, yer Uncle Purdie was visitin’ ma uncle last night, an’ what d’ye think I did?” “What?” “I asked him for a job!” “A job!” exclaimed Macgregor. “In――in yin o’ his shops?” “Na; in his chief office.” “My! ye’ve a neck――I mean, ye’re no’ afraid.” “Ye dinna get muckle in this world wi’oot askin’ for it.” “What did he say?” the boy enquired, after a pause. “He said the job was mine as sune as I was ready to tak’ it. Ye see, I tell’t him I didna want to start till I had ma shorthand an’ typewritin’ perfec’. That’ll tak’ me a few months yet.” “I didna ken ye could typewrite.” “Oh, I’ve been workin’ at it for near a year, but I can only get practisin’ afore breakfast an’ whiles in the evenin’. Still, I think I’ll be ready for the office aboot the spring, if no’ earlier.” Macgregor regarded her with sorrow mingled with admiration. “But what way dae ye want to leave here?” he cried, all at once realising what the change would mean to him. “There’s nae prospects in a wee place like this. Once I’m in a big place, like yer uncle’s, I’ll get chances. I want to be yer uncle’s private secretary――――” “Ye’re ower young.” “I didna say in six months.” Her voice changed. “Are ye no’ pleased, Mac?” “Hoo can I be pleased when ye’re leavin’ here? Can ye no’ stop? Ye’re fine where ye are. An’ what’ll Miss Tod dae wantin’ ye?” “I’ll get uncle to find her another girl――a pretty girl, so that ye’ll come here for yer stationery, eh?” “If ye leave, I’ll never come here again. Could ye no’ get a job behind the counter in yin of ma uncle’s shops?”――clutching at a straw. “I’ll gang furder in the office. If I was a man I daresay I wud try the shop. If I was you, Mac, I wud try it.” “I couldna sell folk things.” “In a big business like yer uncle’s there’s plenty work besides sellin’. But I suppose ye’ll stick to the pentin’.” “Ay,” he said shortly.