'Bless the child,' cried Nancy, who, with a litter of paper round her, was scribbling verses by the cosy hearth. 'What ails you? Has old Creighton's tea given you the indigestion? Be sure, love, if there was poison in the cup, 'twas meant for me! But, Ally, you look scared: what is it, love?'
''Twas—'twas nothing much,' said Alison, struggling to rid herself of the disagreeable impressions of her walk. 'Only, Mr. Herries has such a strange servant-lass that he sent across the town with us; she behaved so—so odd.' Nancy laughed.
'Was that all?' she said flippantly. 'Gentlemen have often "strange servant lasses," dear, and I dare say Archie, for all his prim ways, is no better than his neighbours.'
Alison's cheeks suddenly flamed scarlet, and her eyes blazed, as she caught the innuendo.
'That—that was a wicked thought, Nancy,' she said.
'La—Innocence, don't look so scandalised,' laughed Nancy. 'What a spit-fire it is! But take my word for it, Ally, men are men, love, and not old maids!' which was an undeniable truth; and not a surprising one, perhaps, on the lips of the confidential friend of Mr. Burns, the poet.
CHAPTER XXIV.
The Bard had not visited the Potterrow on that evening, as Alison was not slow to discover. But Nancy was in a mood so gay, so full of sparkle, that her friend presumed that the famous visit was a pleasure only for a very little time deferred.
'Nancy,' Alison said, venturing on a subject which she felt was too mundane to find favour at the moment, 'Mr. Herries says that he takes Danny down to the seaside on Saturday.'
'Does he, love?' said Nancy, coolly. 'Well, 'tis vastly good of him, I'm sure. But if he expects dutiful maternal attendance from me on that day, he can't get it; for I'm most particularly engaged at home.'