“That’ll be merely for a start, of course. I’ll tak’ ye a trip roun’ the world for the price o’ a coat o’ pent to the yacht. Are ye on? Maybe ye’ll be a master-penter by then.” “I――I’ll never be onything――an’ I’m no’ carin’,” he groaned. “If ye lie doon in the road ye’ll no’ win far, an’ ye’re likely to get tramped on, forbye. What’s wrang wi’ ye the day?” she asked kindly. “Ye――ye jist mak’ me miserable,” he blurted out, and hung his head. “Me!” she said innocently. “I’m sure I never meant to dae that. I’m a hard nut, I suppose; but no’ jist as hard as I seem. Onything I can dae to mak’ ye happy again?” The door opened, the bell banged, and a man came in and bought a weekly paper. “Weel?” said Christina when they were alone. “Let me walk hame wi’ ye the nicht,” said Macgregor, who ought to have felt grateful to the chance customer whose brief stay had permitted him to get his wits and words together. “Oh!” said Christina. “I’ll wait for ye as long as ye like.” Some seconds passed ere Christina spoke. “I’m not in the habit of being escorted――――” she began. “For ony sake dinna speak like that.” “I forgot ye wasna a customer. But, seriously, I dinna think it wud be the thing.” “What way, Christina?” “Jist because, an’ for several other reasons besides. My! it’s gettin’ dark. Time I was lightin’ up.” She struck a match, applied it to a long taper, and proceeded to ignite the jets in the window and above the counter. Then she turned to him again. “Mac.” Something in her voice roused him out of his despair. “What, Christina?” “If ye walk hame wi’ me, I’ll expect ye to come up an’ see ma aunt an’ uncle. Ye see, I made a sort o’ bargain wi’ them that I wudna ha’e ony frien’s that they didna ken aboot.” Macgregor’s expression of happiness gave place to one of doubt. “Maybe they wudna like me,” he said. “Aweel, that’s your risk, of course. But they’ll no’ bite ye. I leave the shop at eight.” She glanced at her little silver watch. “Mercy! It’s time I was puttin’ on the kettle. Miss Tod’ll be back in a jiffy. Ye best gang, Mac.” “I’ll be waitin’ for ye at eight,” he said, rising. “An’ it’s awfu’ guid o’ ye, Christina, though I wish ye hadna made that bargain――――” “Weel, I like to be as honest as I can――ootside o’ business. If ye dinna turn up, I’ll forgive ye. Noo――――” “Oh, I’ll turn up. It wud tak’ mair nor your aunt an’ uncle――――” “Tits, man!” she cried impatiently, “I’ll be late wi’ her tea. Adieu for the present.” She waved her hand and fled to the living-room.