"But I’m haverin’ awa--and no’ answerin’ your question. Let things bide a wee as they are. Andra thinks a lot o’ ye; but he has got tae ken ye better afore he’ll judge ye tae be a fit husband for Mary. I’ll tell ye when the time is ripe tae speir at him. Meantime the lassie winna rin awa frae ye; and if ye’ll tak’ the advice o’ an auld woman, there’s twice as muckle joy in the courtin’ days as there is in the level years o’ wedded life; sae mak’ the maist o’ them, and the Lord bless ye baith." My little sweetheart had been right. Her mother understood. Later I sought her, and found her alone in the gloaming--the lover’s hour. "And what does mither say?" she asked. Briefly I told her. She laughed happily:-- "I kent it wad be a’ richt." As she stood before me--her face upturned, her eyes eager, I slipped an arm about her, and would have drawn her to me, but she drew back. "Dinna spoil it," she said--"maybe the morn"--and she smiled. "I want to keep the wonder o’ your first kiss till then: it’s a kind o’ sacrament." She laid her hands upon my shoulders, and her words tumbled over each other. "Love is magical. Since you kissed me I have wakened frae sleep: every meenute has had rose-tipped wings: the silence sings for me, and the moor wind plays a melody on the harp o’ my hert. Can ye no’ hear it?" I would have answered as a lover should, but she continued: "No, no! Ye canna hear it. I’m sure there maun hae been a woman wi’ the shepherds on the plains o’ Palestine the nicht they heard the angels sing. Nae man ever heard the angels sing till a woman telled him they were singing. Men are deaf craturs." "Mary," I cried, "I am not deaf. I hear the angels singing whenever you speak"--and I seized her hands. "Dinna talk havers," she answered, and raced off; but at the corner of the house she turned and, poised on tip-toe, shadowy among the shadows, she blew me a kiss with either hand. *CHAPTER XXI* *THE HIRED MAN* There was nothing for me to do but lay to heart the advice of my friend Jean. Mary’s suggestion that I should offer my services to her father took root in my mind, and next day I broached the matter to him. I began by assuring him of my sense of indebtedness to him and his good wife for all that they had done for me. Money I told him could not repay him; whereat he shrugged his shoulders and made a noise in his throat as though the very mention of such a thing hurt him. Then I told him that one of two alternatives lay before me--either to leave Daldowie and endeavour to make my way across the border, or to stay on at the farm and try to repay by service the heavy debt under which I lay. He heard all I had to say in silence, but when I had finished he spoke: