As for the watcher, Willie Thomson, he set out without undue haste to
inform Jessie Mary that once more Macgregor had been left standing
alone on the pavement. Somehow Willie was not particularly pleased
with himself this evening. Ere his lagging feet had borne him half way
to the appointed place he was feeling sorry for Macgregor. All at once
he decided to spy no more. It would be rather awkward just at present
to intimate such a decision to Jessie Mary, but he could “cod” her, he
thought, without much difficulty, by inventing reports in the future.
Cheered by his virtuous resolutions, he quickened his pace.
Jessie Mary received him in the close leading to her abode. She was in
an extraordinarily bad temper, and cut short his report almost at the
outset by demanding to know when he intended repaying the shilling he
had borrowed a fortnight previously.
“Next week,” mumbled Willie, with that sad lack of originality
exhibited by nearly all harassed borrowers.
Whereupon Jessie Mary, who was almost a head the taller, seized him by
one ear and soundly cuffed the other until with a yelp he broke loose
and fled into the night, never to know that he had been punished for
that unfortunate remark of Macgregor’s――“it doesna matter.” Yet let us
not scoff at Jessie Mary’s sense of justice. The possessors of greater
minds than hers, having stumbled against a chair, have risen in their
wrath and kicked the sofa――which is not at all to say that the sofa’s
past has been more blameless than the chair’s. Life has a way of
settling our accounts without much respect for our book-keeping.
Jessie Mary felt none the better of her outbreak. She went to bed
wishing angrily that she had taken Macgregor at his word. The
prospects of obtaining an escort to the dance were now exceedingly
remote, for only that afternoon she had learned that the bandy-legged
young man in the warehouse whom she had deemed “safe at a pinch,” and
who was the owner of a dress suit with a white vest, had invited
another girl and was actually going to give her flowers to wear.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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