‘Macgreegor no here?’ he demanded, and looked astounded.

‘No,’ answered Christina, without laying down the book she had been trying to read.

‘Jist left ye?’

‘No.’

‘When did ye see him?’

‘This morning.’

’Gor!  I could ha’e bet onything I wud ha’e catched him here.  He had jist left the hoose when I——­’

‘Why are you so excited?’ she coldly inquired.

‘Me?  I’m no excited.  Jist been canoodlin’ wi’ ma aunt.  She sprung five bob!  Come oot an’ I’ll stan’ ye a slider.’

‘I regret I cannot accept your kind invitation.’

‘Haw, haw!  It’s you for the language!  But I say!’ He leaned over the counter.  ‘What way are ye no greetin’?’

She flushed hotly, wondering how much he knew or guessed, but replied coolly enough:  ‘I have nothing to weep about.  Have you?’

‘Plenty, by Jings!  I expected to see yer eyes an’ nose rid, onyway, Christina.’

‘Indeed!  Is that how it affects you?’

He looked hard at her.  ‘My! ye’re a game yin!’ he said admiringly.  ‘Weel, I maun slope,’ he went on, with a sigh that sounded absurd, coming from him.  ’I suppose ye’ve nae message for Macgreegor—­something ye forgot to say at the last meenute?  Eh?’

Christina was at a loss.  Apparently he knew nothing, yet his manner was odd.

‘No message, thank you,’ said she slowly.

‘Then I’ll bid ye guid-bye—­an’ I could bet ye a bob ye’ll never see me again.  So I’ll tell ye something.’  His words came with a rush.  ’Ye’re aboot the nicest girl I ever kent, Christina.  Macgreegor’s a luckier deevil nor he deserves.  But I’ll look efter him for ye in Flanders.  Trust me for that.  Noo that we’re really boun’ for the Front, in a day or so, things is different—­at least I’m feelin’ different.  Dinna laugh!  I—­I dinna want to ha’e ony enemies but the Germans.  I’ve jist been an’ kissed ma aunt—­dammit!  An’ noo’—­he caught her hand, pulled her to him—­’I’m gaun to kiss you!  There!’ He turned and bolted.

Christina’s hand went to her cheek, and fell back to her side.  Her colour ebbed as swiftly as it had flowed.  She began to shake.  ‘Bound for the Front, in a day or so.’ . . .

Later she went to the sitting-room where her employer was once more absorbing comfort from a cup.  ‘Miss Tod,’ she said quietly, ’I want to gang hame.’

In the evening she posted a small package with this note enclosed—­

’I am sending the ring Mrs. McOstrich said I was to give you when the time came for you to go.  I hope it will bring you good luck.  God bless you.

  ‘CHRISTINA.’

She lay awake most of the night, wondering if she might not have written more, wondering what answer he would send, wondering—­wondering. . . .

And as she fell asleep in the grey of morning, hours before the package would be delivered at the camp, a long train, at an outlying station, started on its way south, and six hundred eager lads shouted in the face of all things.