She stared, and the colour rose in her pretty face, but her voice was calm.  ‘Lucky you!’ said she.

He was disappointed.  Involuntarily he exclaimed:  ’Ye’re no a bit surprised!’

‘What regiment?’

He told her, and she informed him that he wouldn’t look so bad in the kilt.  He announced that he was to report himself on the morrow, and she merely commented, ‘Quick work.’

‘But, Christina, ye couldna ha’e guessed I was for enlistin’,’ he said, after a pause.

’I was afraid—­I mean for to say, I fancied ye were the sort to dae it.  If I had kent for sure, I wud ha’e been knittin’ ye socks instead o’ a silly tie for yer birthday.’

‘Ha’e ye been knittin’ a tie for me?’

‘Uh-ha—­strictly platonic, of course.’

She had used the word more than once in the past, and he had not derived much comfort from looking it up in the dictionary.  But now he was going—­he told himself—­to be put off no longer.  Seating himself at the counter, he briefly recounted his uncle’s kindness and his aunt’s munificence.  Then he attempted to secure her hand.

She evaded his touch, asking how his parents had taken his enlistment.  On his answering——­

‘Dear, dear!’ she cried, with more horror than she may have felt, ‘an here ye are, wastin’ the precious time in triflin’ conversation wi’ me!’

‘It’s you that’s daein’ the triflin’,’ he retorted, with sudden spirit; ‘an’ it’s your fau’t I’m here noo instead o’ at hame.’

‘Well, I never!’ she cried.  ’I believe I gave ye permission to escort me from these premises at 8 p.m.,’ she proceeded in her best English, which he hated, ’but I have not the slightest recollection of inviting ye to call at 10 a.m.  However, the 8 p.m. appointment is hereby cancelled.’

‘Cancel yer Auntie Kate!’ he rejoined, indignant.  ’Hoo can ye speak like that when dear knows when I’ll see ye again?’

‘Oh, ye’ll no be at the Front for a week or so yet, an’ we’ll hope for the best.  Still, I’ll forgive ye, seein’ it’s yer nineteenth birthday.  Only, I’m thinkin’ yer parents ‘ll be wantin’ ye to keep the hoose the nicht.’

Macgregor’s collar seemed to be getting tight, for he tugged at it as he said:  ‘I’ll tell them I’m gaun oot to see you.’

‘That’ll but double the trouble,’ she said, lightly.

Their eyes met, and for the first time in their acquaintance, perhaps, hers were first to give way.

‘Christina,’ he said, abruptly, ‘I want to burst that five pound.’

‘Ye extravagant monkey!’

‘On a—­a ring.’

‘A ring!  Ha’e ye enlisted as a colonel?’ But her levity lacked sparkle.

As for Macgregor, he had dreamed of this moment for ages.  ’Ye’ll tak’ it, Christina?’ he whispered.  ’Gi’e me yer size—­a hole in a bit pasteboard. . . .’  Speech failed him.

‘Me?’ she murmured—­and shook her head.  ‘Ye’re ower young, Mac,’ she said, gently.