Purdie, noting his nephew's puzzled
distress.
'Hush, Robert! Allow me. I must break it gently to the boy. What
a cruel fiascio!--what a vexatious disappintment!----'
'Whaur's Christina?' Macgregor demanded.
'Courage, boy!' said Aunt Purdie in lofty tones. 'Remember you are
a sojer--soldier--of the Queen--or rather, King!'
'But----'
'Christina left for Glasgow per the 1.10 p.m. train, one short hour
before you arrived.'
'Weel, I'm----'
'She decided very suddenly this morning. She did not hand me the
letter, or p.c., for my perusual, but I understood her to observe
that Miss Tod was not feeling so able and desired her presence. We
were real sorry to let her go----'
'Ma impression,' Mr. Purdie put in, 'is that she was wearyin' for
her lad. But for ill-luck this is the maist confounded,
dampest----'
'Robert, behave yourself!'
'Weel, it's a fair sickener. But there's nae use talkin' aboot it.
Come awa', lad, an' ha'e something to eat. Ye canna keep up yer
heart on a toom kyte.'
They were very kind to him and pressed him to remain overnight, but
he was bent on leaving by the 3.40 express, which is due at Glasgow
about 7.30. With good luck, he told himself, he might catch
Christina at Miss Tod's. Meanwhile youth and health compelled him
to enjoy his dinner, during which Aunt Purdie insisted on refunding
the cost of his futile journey.
'Ye're ower guid to me,' he said awkwardly.
'Not at all, not at all, Macgregor.
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