'I'm afraid ye're a pessimist,' Christina said. 'I used to dae a
bit in that line masel'. Ma favourite motto was: "Cheer up--ye'll
soon be deid!" But I got past that, an' so will you.'

With a sardonic smile Willie shook his head and took another
cigarette; and just then Christina had to go to attend to a
customer.

Willie turned to his friend. 'Thon was a dirty trick aboot the
cookies. I've a guid mind to bide here as lang as you.'

'I didna think ye wud hae been feart for a cookie, Wullie. Of
course, I'll never tell her.'

'Weel, I accep' yer apology. Can ye len' us thruppence? I want to
purchase some War Loan. . . . By Jings, ye're no a bad sort,
Macgreegor. . . . Hoo dae ye think I behaved masel'?'

'No that bad.'

'Weel, I want ye to tell her I ha'end enjoyed masel' sae much since
ma Uncle Peter's funeral, ten year back.'

'Tell her yersel'.'

Willie pocketed a few of the superior cigarettes, and rose. 'It's
sax-thirty,' he said. 'Her an' you'll be nane the waur o' hauf an'
'oor in private. See? So long! She's a clinker!'