'By Jings, ye're richt there!' Willie exploded, and immediately
subsided in confusion.

'Ay,' she agreed placidly; 'he's no a connoisseur like you, Wullie.
Talkin' o' females, hoo's yer aunt keepin'?'

'Rotten--at least she was fine the last time I seen her ugly.'

'The decay seems to ha'e been rapid. But, seriously, it's a peety
ye canna love yer aunt better----'

Love her! Oh, help!' The 'p' was sounded just in time, and Willie
glanced at Macgregor to see whether he had noticed the stumble.

Macgregor, however, had forgotten Willie--unless, perhaps to wish
him a hundred miles away. Christina was wearing a new white blouse
which showed a little bit of her neck, with a bow of her favourite
scarlet at the opening.

'D'ye ken what ma aunt done to me the ither day?' Willie proceeded,
craving for sympathy. 'I was terrible hard up, an' I wrote her a
nice letter on a caird wi' a view o' Glesca Cathedral on it,
includin' the graveyaird--cost me a penny; an' what dae ye think
she sent me back? A bl--oomin' trac'!'

At that moment the kettle boiled, and Christina, exclaiming 'Oh,
mercy!' sprang to the hearth. Over her shoulder she said in a
voice that wavered slightly:

'That was hard cheese, Wullie, but ye maun send her a cheerier-like