'Mind ye dinna burn yersel'!' cried Macgregor, starting into life.

'Haud the kettle, Mac,' said she. 'It's no fair o' Wullie to be sae funny.'

'I wasna funny!' Willie protested.

'It's yer notion o' the optimistic that tickled me,' she said.

'Pour, Mac; I'm steady noo. But ye're quite richt, Wullie. We canna be ower discreet when cash is involved. I'll get some high-cla.s.s cairds for ye to inspect till the tea's infused.'

Macgregor would dearly have liked to follow her into the shop.

'She's a clinker,' observed Willie under his breath.

'Eh?'

'Naething.'

Which was all the conversation during the absence of the hostess.

She returned with a tray. Willie was tempted by a card with the 'V.C.' emblazoned on it, but feared it would look 'sw.a.n.ky' on his part. Though hampered by the adverse criticisms of Macgregor, who naturally wanted to hold Christina's hand under cover of the table as long as possible, he succeeded at last in choosing one ent.i.tled 'The Soldier's Return,' depicting a bronzed youth running to embrace an old lady awaiting him in a cottage porch.

'If that doesna touch the spot,' said Christina, 'I'm a d.u.c.h.ess.'

They sat down to tea.

Much to Willie's relief, Christina apparently forgot all about a blessing. Anxious to please, he expressed admiration at the abundance of good things.

'I like to see a table groanin',' said the hospitable hostess.

'There'll be mair nor the table groanin' afore lang,' observed Macgregor.

They all laughed like happy people, especially Willie, until with a start he remembered the cream cookies and his omission to bring an extra hanky. All the same, he proceeded to enjoy himself pretty heartily, and did the agreeable to the best of his ability, furnishing sundry anecdotes of camp life which were as new to Macgregor as they probably were to himself. At last--

'Try a cream cookie,' said Christina.

But he could not face it. 'Cream,' he said mournfully, 'doesna agree wi' me. The last time I had cream--ma aunt had got it in for her cat that had the staggers--I lay in agony for three days an'

three nichts an' several 'oors into the bargain. Ma aunt feared I was gaun to croak ma last.'

Macgregor made a choking sound, while Christina gravely hoped that the cat had also recovered, and pa.s.sed the macaroons.

'Thenk ye,' said Willie, and readily resumed operations. But he was not a little disgusted to note presently that Christina and Macgregor enjoyed their cream cookies without the slightest mishap.

His geniality was not fully restored until, at the end of the meal, Christina laid a box of superior cigarettes between her two guests.

'May I drap deid in five meenutes,' he declared, 'if ever I was treated like this afore! Macgreegor, ye're jist a damp lucky deevil!'

'Oh, whisht!' said Christina smiling.

'Ye should get a girl, Wullie,' Macgregor remarked with the air of an old married man.

'I ha'ena your luck, ma lad. If I was trustin' a girl, I'll bet ye a bob she wud turn oot to be yin o' the sort that pinches a chap's wages afore they're warmed in his pooch, an' objec's to him smokin'

a f.a.g, an' tak's the huff if he calls her fig-face.'

'I'm afraid ye're a pessimist,' Christina said. 'I used to dae a bit in that line masel'. Ma favourite motto was: "Cheer up--ye'll soon be deid!" But I got past that, an' so will you.'

With a sardonic smile Willie shook his head and took another cigarette; and just then Christina had to go to attend to a customer.

Willie turned to his friend. 'Thon was a dirty trick aboot the cookies. I've a guid mind to bide here as lang as you.'

'I didna think ye wud hae been feart for a cookie, Wullie. Of course, I'll never tell her.'

'Weel, I accep' yer apology. Can ye len' us thruppence? I want to purchase some War Loan. . . . By Jings, ye're no a bad sort, Macgreegor. . . . Hoo dae ye think I behaved masel'?'

'No that bad.'

'Weel, I want ye to tell her I ha'end enjoyed masel' sae much since ma Uncle Peter's funeral, ten year back.'

'Tell her yersel'.'

Willie pocketed a few of the superior cigarettes, and rose. 'It's sax-thirty,' he said. 'Her an' you'll be nane the waur o' hauf an'

'oor in private. See? So long! She's a clinker!'

And before Macgregor realized it, Willie had bolted through the shop and into the street.

Christina returned, her eyes wide. 'What gaed wrang wi' him, Mac?'

'Come here an' I'll tell ye.'

XIII

MISS TOD RETURNS

'It was awfu' dacent o' Wullie to clear oot,' Macgregor remarked happily, as he moved his chair close to the one on which Christina had just seated herself.

Christina's chin went up. 'It wud ha'e been dacenter o' him to ha'e waited till the time he was invited to wait.'

'But he meant weel. I'm sure he didna want to gang, but he fancied it wud be nice to let you an' me ha'e a--a . . .'

'I beg yer pardon?'

'Ach, ye ken what I mean. He fancied we wud enjoy a wee whiley jist by oorsel's.'

'Speak for yersel'! I'm thinkin' it was exceedingly rude o' him to slope wi'oot tellin' me he had enjoyed his tea.'

'He asked me to tell ye that he hadna enjoyed hissel' sae weel since his uncle's funeral, ten year back.'

Christina gave a little sniff. 'That's a nice sort o' compliment.