"We're a nice lot!" she exclaimed. "Not one of us has thanked him for looking after Faith. Well I do, anyway. It was good of you, Angus Mackay."
"Oh, sure," Gerald French concurred carelessly. Not so heavily built as his brother Blake, he was as tall and finer drawn. His face was oval, his eyes dark and lazy, and his voice a drawl. "Thanks, Mackay."
"Ditto," said young Larry.
Blake French, reaching into his pocket pulled out a roll of currency and stripped off a bill. "No, no, Cousin Blake!" Faith Winton exclaimed, but he held it out to the boy.
"Here you are, Mackay. That's better than thanks. I guess you can use it."
But the boy made no movement to take the money. "I was not bringing her home for money, nor for thanks either," he said uncompromisingly.
Blake laughed loudly. "I never heard of a Mackay refusing money."
The boy scowled at him. "There will be other things you have not heard of," he said coldly.
Blake French stared at him, and laughed again.
"Well, give him a kiss, Faith. Maybe that's what he'd like. Or has he had it?"