At the sight of the laden table Willie took fright and declared his intention of doing an immediate ‘slope.’  ‘Ye didna tell me,’ he complained, ‘there was to be a big compn’y.’

Macgregor grabbed him by the arm.  ’Keep yer hair on, Wullie.  There’ll be naebody but the three o’ us.  There’s nae scrimp aboot Christina,’ he added with pride.

‘I believe ye!’ responded the reassured guest.  ’Gor, I never seen as much pastries in a’ ma born days—­no but what I’m ready to dae ma bit.’

Just then Christina entered, remarking: 

‘It’s an awfu’ job tryin’ to sell what a person doesna want to a person that wants what ye ha’ena got; but I done it this time.  Evenin’, Mac.  Mr. Thomson, I am delighted to meet ye.’

‘Aw,’ murmured Willie helplessly.

‘Dinna terrify him,’ Macgregor whispered.

‘Sorry,’ she said with quick compunction.  ’I’m gled to see ye, Wullie.  Sit doon an’ feel at hame.  The kettle’s jist at the bile.  See, tak’ Miss Tod’s chair.  She’ll like to think that a sojer sat in it.  She’ll never ha’e been as near to a man.  I was askin’ her the ither nicht if she had ever had a lad.  The answer was in the negative.’

‘Maybe,’ Macgregor suggested, ‘she didna like to tell ye the truth.’

Christina smiled gently, saying, ’Ye’ve a lot to learn aboot us females, Mac.’

‘By Jings, ye’re richt there!’ Willie exploded, and immediately subsided in confusion.

‘Ay,’ she agreed placidly; ’he’s no a connoisseur like you, Wullie.  Talkin’ o’ females, hoo’s yer aunt keepin’?’

‘Rotten—­at least she was fine the last time I seen her ugly.’

’The decay seems to ha’e been rapid.  But, seriously, it’s a peety ye canna love yer aunt better——­’

Love her!  Oh, help!’ The ‘p’ was sounded just in time, and Willie glanced at Macgregor to see whether he had noticed the stumble.

Macgregor, however, had forgotten Willie—­unless, perhaps to wish him a hundred miles away.  Christina was wearing a new white blouse which showed a little bit of her neck, with a bow of her favourite scarlet at the opening.

‘D’ye ken what ma aunt done to me the ither day?’ Willie proceeded, craving for sympathy.  ‘I was terrible hard up, an’ I wrote her a nice letter on a caird wi’ a view o’ Glesca Cathedral on it, includin’ the graveyaird—­cost me a penny; an’ what dae ye think she sent me back?  A bl—­oomin’ trac’!’

At that moment the kettle boiled, and Christina, exclaiming ’Oh, mercy!’ sprang to the hearth.  Over her shoulder she said in a voice that wavered slightly: 

’That was hard cheese, Wullie, but ye maun send her a cheerier-like caird next time.  I’ll stand ye an optimistic specimen afore ye leave the shop.’

‘Thenk ye!  A—­of course we’ll ha’e to draw the line at picturs o’ folk dookin’ in the sad sea waves or canoodlin’ on the shore——­’

Christina, teapot in one hand, kettle in the other, burst out laughing.