’So am I. However, it is not the time to indulge in discriminations.  Your uncle thought it was better for me to come than to write a letter.’

‘Is onything wrang wi’ ma uncle?’ Macgregor asked anxiously.

’Barring an invidious bunion, he is in his usual health.  But we are going to Aberdeen to-morrow, for a fortnight, and we have invited your intended to come with us.  She——­’

‘Christina!  But she canna gang awa’ to Aberdeen when——­’ He stopped short, at a loss.  He had an appointment with Christina for the following evening.  Surely——­

’I arranged with Miss Tod this morning.  Christina will be writing to you, I presume.’

‘She—­she’s gaun wi’ ye?’

‘Certainly—­D.V., of course.’

‘For a—­a fortnicht?’

’The change will be good for her.  You must not be selfish.  Your uncle was afraid you might be put out:  that is why I came to explain.  But apart from the beneficial change, Christina, as I observed to your uncle, ought to see the world while she is young.’

Macgregor answered nothing.  Possibly he did not catch her latter remarks.  Christina going away for a fortnight, and he might be ordered abroad at any moment!

‘Come,’ said his aunt, kindly enough, ‘don’t be huffy.’

Mercifully, just then an officer passed.  In the action of saluting Macgregor regained self-control.

‘I hope ye get guid weather at Aberdeen,’ he managed to say, and his aunt admired him even more than at the hour of his enlistment.

‘Yer uncle an’ me jist wishes ye was free to jine us,’ she said with unwonted warmth and homeliness of accent.  Her hand went to the fastening of her purse, and hesitated.  No!  Something told her this was not the moment for a gift, however splendid.

‘Well, I must be going,’ she remarked, stiffening again.  ’Kindly conduct me to the exit.  I thought there would have been more to inspire the mind in this place. . . .  Good-bye.  We will take good care of Christina.’

* * * * *

Never in his life had Macgregor been so deeply hurt and angered—­not even in the old days by Aunt Purdie, who was not now the object of his resentment.

Willie, who always tried to make the best of things, insults not excepted, approached presently with a hopeful appeal for a loan.

‘Gang to blazes!’ was the response.

Willie could scarce believe his ears.  ’Macgreegor! did she no cough up onything?’

Macgregor walked on.

‘An’ she fancies hersel’ for a ——­ swell!’ exclaimed Willie viciously.

‘Anither word an’ I’ll knock the face aff ye!’

It was Willie’s turn to feel resentment.

In the evening came a note from Christina, hurriedly written.  She was terribly busy getting ready for the morning train.  It was most kind of Mrs. Purdie.  Her own uncle must have let drop to Mr. Purdie that a summer outing this year was not possible, and Mr. Purdie must have told Mrs. Purdie. . . .  Of course, she, Christina, would never have dreamed of going away otherwise.  But the time would soon pass, Mac, and she intended to enjoy it thoroughly. . . .