But he could not face it. 'Cream,' he said mournfully, 'doesna
agree wi' me. The last time I had cream--ma aunt had got it in for
her cat that had the staggers--I lay in agony for three days an'
three nichts an' several 'oors into the bargain. Ma aunt feared I
was gaun to croak ma last.'

Macgregor made a choking sound, while Christina gravely hoped that
the cat had also recovered, and passed the macaroons.

'Thenk ye,' said Willie, and readily resumed operations. But he
was not a little disgusted to note presently that Christina and
Macgregor enjoyed their cream cookies without the slightest mishap.

His geniality was not fully restored until, at the end of the meal,
Christina laid a box of superior cigarettes between her two guests.

'May I drap deid in five meenutes,' he declared, 'if ever I was
treated like this afore! Macgreegor, ye're jist a damp lucky
deevil!'

'Oh, whisht!' said Christina smiling.

'Ye should get a girl, Wullie,' Macgregor remarked with the air of
an old married man.

'I ha'ena your luck, ma lad. If I was trustin' a girl, I'll bet ye
a bob she wud turn oot to be yin o' the sort that pinches a chap's
wages afore they're warmed in his pooch, an' objec's to him smokin'
a fag, an' tak's the huff if he calls her fig-face.'