caird next time. I'll stand ye an optimistic specimen afore ye
leave the shop.'

'Thenk ye! A--of course we'll ha'e to draw the line at picturs o'
folk dookin' in the sad sea waves or canoodlin' on the shore----'

Christina, teapot in one hand, kettle in the other, burst out
laughing.

'Mind ye dinna burn yersel'!' cried Macgregor, starting into life.

'Haud the kettle, Mac,' said she. 'It's no fair o' Wullie to be
sae funny.'

'I wasna funny!' Willie protested.

'It's yer notion o' the optimistic that tickled me,' she said.
'Pour, Mac; I'm steady noo. But ye're quite richt, Wullie. We
canna be ower discreet when cash is involved. I'll get some
high-class cairds for ye to inspect till the tea's infused.'

Macgregor would dearly have liked to follow her into the shop.

'She's a clinker,' observed Willie under his breath.

'Eh?'

'Naething.'

Which was all the conversation during the absence of the hostess.