Robinson,
'so we ha'ena seen the laddie for a while.'
'He hasna wrote this week,' remarked Jeannie. 'But of course
_you'll_ ha'e heard frae him, Christina'--this with respectful
diffidence.
'He's been busy at the shooting' Christina replied, wishing she had
more news to give.
'I wisht I had a gun,' observed Jimsie. 'I wud shoot the whuskers
aff auld Tirpy. Jings, I wud that!'
'Dinna boast,' said his mother.
'What wud you shoot, Christina, if you had a gun?'
'I think I wud practise on a cocoa-nut, Jimsie,' she said, with a
small laugh.
After tea Mrs. Robinson took Christina into the parlour while
Jeannie tidied up. Presently the door bell rang, and Jimsie rushed
to meet the postman.
'It's for Macgreegor,' he announced, returning and handing a parcel
to his mother.
'I wonder wha's sendin' the laddie socks,' she said, feeling it.
'I best open it an' put his name on them. Maybe they're frae
Mistress McOstrich.' She removed the string and brown paper.
'Vera nice socks--- a wee thing to the lairge side--but vera nice
socks, indeed. But wha----'
'Here's a letter!' cried Jimsie, extracting a half-sheet of white
paper from the crumpled brown, and giving it to his dear Christina.
In bold, untidy writing she read--
'With fondest love from Maggie.'
XVIII
PITY THE POOR PARENTS!
'It's a peety Macgreegor didna see his intended the nicht,' Mr.
Robinson observed when his son, after a couple of hours at the
parental hearth, had gone to bed, 'but we canna help trains bein'
late.
Pages:
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97