“When did he preach against the wiles of women, Nanny?”

“It was long ago,” said Gavin, hastily.

“No so very lang syne,” corrected Nanny.  “It was the Sabbath after the sojers was in Thrums; the day you changed your text so hurriedly.  Some thocht you wasna weel, but Lang Tammas—­”

“Thomas Whamond is too officious,” Gavin said with dignity.  “I forbid you, Nanny, to repeat his story.”

“But what made you change your text?” asked Babbie.

“You see he winna tell,” Nanny said, wistfully.  “Ay, I dinna deny but what I would like richt to ken.  But the session’s as puzzled as yoursel’, Babbie.”

“Perhaps more puzzled,” answered the Egyptian, with a smile that challenged Gavin’s frowns to combat and overthrow them.  “What surprises me, Mr. Dishart, is that such a great man can stoop to see whether women are pretty or not.  It was very good of you to remember me to-day.  I suppose you recognized me by my frock?”

“By your face,” he replied, boldly; “by your eyes.”

“Nanny,” exclaimed the Egyptian, “did you hear what the minister said?”

“Woe is me,” answered Nanny, “I missed it.”

“He says he would know me anywhere by my eyes.”

“So would I mysel’,” said Nanny.

“Then what colour are they, Mr. Dishart?” demanded Babbie.  “Don’t speak, Nanny, for I want to expose him.”

She closed her eyes tightly.  Gavin was in a quandary.  I suppose he had looked at her eyes too long to know much about them.

“Blue,” he guessed at last.

“Na, they’re black,” said Nanny, who had doubtless known this for an hour.  I am always marvelling over the cleverness of women, as every one must see who reads this story.

“No but what they micht be blue in some lichts,” Nanny added, out of respect to the minister.

“Oh, don’t defend him, Nanny,” said Babbie, looking reproachfully at Gavin.  “I don’t see that any minister has a right to denounce women when he is so ignorant of his subject.  I will say it, Nanny, and you need not kick me beneath the table.”

Was not all this intoxicating to the little minister, who had never till now met a girl on equal terms?  At twenty-one a man is a musical instrument given to the other sex, but it is not as instruments learned at school, for when She sits down to it she cannot tell what tune she is about to play.  That is because she has no notion of what the instrument is capable.  Babbie’s kind-heartedness, her gaiety, her coquetry, her moments of sadness, had been a witch’s fingers, and Gavin was still trembling under their touch.  Even in being taken to task by her there was a charm, for every pout of her mouth, every shake of her head, said, “You like me, and therefore you have given me the right to tease you.”  Men sign these agreements without reading them.  But, indeed, man is a stupid animal at the best, and thinks all his life that he did not propose until he blurted out, “I love you.”