'
Mrs. Robinson felt that it was perhaps just as well the two young
people had not met that night, but refrained from saying so. 'Hoo
dae ye think Macgreegor's lookin,' John?' she asked after a pause.
'I didna notice onything wrang wi' him. He hadna a great deal to
say for hissel'; but that's naething new. Queer hoo a noisy,
steerin' wean like he was, grows into a quiet, douce young man.'
'He's maybe no as douce as ye think,' said Lizzie under her breath.
'What's that?'
'Naething, John.' She sighed heavily.
'What's wrang, wife?'
'I was wishin' we had a niece called Maggie. . . . I suppose it's
nae use askin' if ye ever heard o' Macgreegor ha'ein' an
acquaintance o' that name.'
'Maggie? Weel, it's no what ye would call a unique name. But
what----'
'Listen, John. When Christina was here the day, a wee paircel cam'
for Macgreegor, an' when I opened it, there was a pair o' socks
wi'--wi' fondest love from Maggie.'
'Hurray for Maggie!
'But, John, Christina read the words!'
'Oho!' John guffawed. 'She wudna like that--eh?'
'Man, what are ye laughin' at? Ye ken Christina's terrible prood.'
'No ony prooder nor Macgreegor is o' her. Lizzie.'
'That's no what I meant. Christina wud never put up wi' Macgreegor
lookin' at anither lass.'
'Weemen was born jealous; but it's guid for them.'
'John Robi'son! ha'e ye the face to tell me ye wud approve o'
Macgreegor cairryin' on wi' anither lass when he's engaged to
Christina?'
'Of course I wudna exac'ly approve o' it.
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