He affected an
absurdly devil-may-care deportment which so stirred Macgregor's
sense of pity that he had thoughts of taking back what he had said
about the cream cookies. But at the last moment his bootlace
snapped. . . .
Willie's toilet was the most careful he had ever made, and included
an application of exceeding fragrant pomade pilfered from his
corporal's supply and laid on thickly enough to stop a leak.
Finally, having armed himself with his new cane and put seven
breath perfumers and a cigarette in his mouth, he approached the
stooping Macgregor and declared himself ready for the road.
'What's that atrocious smell?' demanded Macgregor, with unwonted
crustiness.
For once in his life Willie had no answer at hand, and for once he
blushed.
XII
A TEA-PARTY
Christina was serving a customer when her two guests entered the
shop. Unembarrassed she beamed on both and signed to Macgregor to
go 'right in.' So Macgregor conducted his friend, who during the
journey had betrayed increasing indications of 'funk,' into the
absent owner's living-room, which Christina had contrived to make
brighter looking than for many a year.
At the sight of the laden table Willie took fright and declared his
intention of doing an immediate 'slope.' 'Ye didna tell me,' he
complained, 'there was to be a big compn'y.'
Macgregor grabbed him by the arm. 'Keep yer hair on, Wullie.
There'll be naebody but the three o' us.
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