“I’m thinking he just stopped with Lowrie for the sake of being near-by to Christina. A lad like him need not have spent good time like that.”
“Well, Janet, it is a good thing for your Christina, and I am glad of it.”
“It is;” answered Janet, with a sigh and a smile. “The lad is sure to get on; and he’s a respectable lad—a Fifer from Kirkcaldy—handsome and well-spoken of; and I am thinking the Line has a big bargain in him, and is proud of it. Still, I’m feared for my lassie, in such an awful, big, wicked-like town as Glasgow.”
“She’ll not require to take the whole town in. She will have her Bible, and her kirk, and her own man. There is nothing to fear you. Christina has her five senses.”
“No doubt. And she is to have a floor of her own and all things convenient; so there is comfort and safety in the like of that.”
“What for are you worrying yourself then?”
“There’s contingencies, Marget,—contingencies. And you know Christina is my one lassie, and I am sore to lose her. But ‘lack a day! we cannot stop the clock. And marriage is like death—it is what we must all come to.”
“Well Janet, your Christina has been long spared from it. She’ll be past twenty, I’m thinking.”
“Christina has had her offers, Marget. But what will you? We must all wait for the right man, or go to the de’il with the wrong one.”
Thus the conversation went on, until Janet had exhausted all the advantages and possibilities that were incident to Christina’s good fortune. And perhaps it was out of a little feeling of weariness of the theme, that Marget finally reminded her friend that she would be “lonely enough wanting her daughter,” adding, “I was hearing too, that Andrew is not to be kept single much longer; and it will be what no one expects if Sophy Traill ever fills Christina’s shoes.”