“Of course,” she said cheerfully. “Was yer uncle nice?” “It was ma aunt,” he explained somewhat reluctantly, for he feared she might laugh. But she only nodded understandingly, and, relieved, he plunged into details. “Ye’ve done fine,” she said when he had finished――for the time being, at anyrate. “I’m afraid it’ll be you that’ll be wantin’ a private secretary when I get that length.” “Dinna laugh at me,” he murmured reproachfully. “Dinna be ower serious, Mac,” she returned. “Ye’ll get on a’ the better for bein’ able to tak’ a joke whiles. I’m as pleased as Punch aboot it.” He was more pleased, if possible. “If it hadna been for you, Christina, I wud never ha’e had the neck to try it,” he said warmly. “I believe ye!” she said quaintly. “But it’s the truth――an’ I’ll never forget it.” “A guid memory’s a gran’ thing! An’ when dae ye start wi’ yer uncle?” “Monday week.” “That’s quick work. Ye’ve beat me a’ to sticks. Dinna get swelled heid!” “Christina, I wish ye wudna――――” “I canna help it. It’s the theatre, I suppose. Oh, I near forgot to tell ye, yer uncle was in when we got hame frae the theatre. I hadna time to speak to him, for I had to run back to the shop. Hadna even time to change ma dress. I think yer uncle whiles gets tired o’ bein’ a rich man an’ livin’ in a swell house. Maybe _you’ll_ feel that way some day.” He let her run on, now and then glancing wistfully at her pretty, animated face. The happiness, the triumph, he had anticipated were not his. But all the more they were worth working for. So they came to the place where she lived. “Come up,” she said easily; “I tell’t auntie I wud maybe bring ye up for supper.” Doubtless it was the shock of gratification as much as anything that caused him to hang back. She had actually mentioned him to her aunt! “Will ma uncle be there?” he stammered at last. “Na, na. Ye’ll see plenty o’ _him_ later on!” “Maybe yer aunt winna be pleased――――” “Come on, Mac! Ye’re ower shy for this world!” she laughed encouragingly. They went up together. Christina had a latch-key, and on opening the door, said: “Oh, they haven’t come home yet. Out for a walk, I suppose. But they’ll be home in a minute. Come in. There’s a peg for your hat.” She led the way into a fire-lit room and turned up the gas. Macgregor saw a homely, cosy parlour, something like his grandfather’s at Rothesay, but brighter generally. A round table was trimly laid for supper. In the window a small table supported a typewriter and a pile of printed and manuscript books, the sight of which gave him a sort of sinking feeling. “Sit down,” she said, indicating an easy-chair. “Auntie and uncle won’t be long.” He took an ordinary chair, and tried hard to look at his ease. As she took off her hat at the mirror over the mantelpiece she remarked: “You’ll like uncle at once, and you’ll like auntie before long. She’s still a wee bit prim.”