Ralph bestowed it chastely.  Whereupon followed Kezia and little Keren-happuch, who received slightly varied duplicates.

Then the three looked at one another.  They knew that this Ralph had eaten of the tree of knowledge.

“That is not the way you kissed us before you went away,” said outspoken Kezia, who had experience in the matter wider than that of the others, looking him straight in the eyes as became a beauty.

For once Ralph was thoroughly taken aback, and blushed richly and long.

Kezia laughed as one who enjoyed his discomfiture.

“I knew it would come,” she said.  “Is she a milkmaid?  She’s not the minister’s daughter, for he is a bachelor, you said!”

Jemima and Keren-happuch actually looked a little relieved, though a good deal excited.  They had been standing in the hall while this conversation was running its course.

“It’s all nonsense, Kezia; I am astonished at you!” said Jemima.

“Come into the sitting-parlour,” said Kezia, taking Ralph’s hand; “we’ll not one of us bear any malice if only you tell us all about it.”

Jemima, after severe consideration, at last looked in a curious sidelong way to Ralph.

“I hope,” she said, “that you have not done anything hasty.”

“Tuts!” said Kezia, “I hope he has.  He was far too slow before he went away.  Make love in haste; marry at leisure—­that’s the right way.”

“Can I have the essay that you read us last April, on the origin of woman?” asked Keren-happuch unexpectedly.  “You won’t want it any more, and I should like it.”

Even little Keren-happuch had her feelings.

The three Misses Thriepneuks were a little jealous of one another before, but already they had forgotten this slight feeling, which indeed was no more than the instinct of proprietorship which young women come to feel in one who has never been long out of their house, and with whom they have been brought up.

But in the face of this new interest they lost their jealousy of one another; so that, in place of presenting a united front to the enemy, these three kindly young women, excited at the mere hint of a love-story, vied with one another which should be foremost in interest and sympathy.  The blush on Ralph’s face spoke its own message, and now, when he was going to speak, his three cousins sat round with eager faces to listen.

“I have something to tell, girls,” said Ralph, “but I meant to tell it first to my uncle.  I have been turned out of the manse of Dullarg, and my father will not allow me to live in his house till after the meeting of the presbytery.”

This was more serious than a love-story, and the bright expression died down into flickering uncertainty in the faces of Jemima, Kezia, and Keren-happuch.

“It’s not anything wrong?” asked Jemima, anxiously.

“No, no,” said Ralph quickly, “nothing but what I have reason to be proud enough of.  It is only a question of the doctrines and practice of the Marrow kirk—­”