“He seemed a nice young man, Mither, and he did admire your garden. I am sure he has told Neil to send the flowers because you loved flowers. When folk love anything, they like others who love as they do. Mebbe they who love flowers hae the same kind and order o’ souls. You ken if a man loves dogs, he is friendly at once wi’ a stranger who loves dogs; and there’s the Domine, who is just silly anent auld coins—copper, siller or gold—he cares not, if they’re only auld enough. Nannie Grant, wha keeps his house, told Katie Tweedie that he took a beggar man into his parlor, and ate his dinner with him, just because he had a siller bit o’ Julius Cæsar in his pouch, and wouldna part wi’ it, even when he was wanting bread.”
“Weel then, the Domine doubtless wanted the penny.”
“Vera likely, but he wouldna tak it frae the puir soul, wha thought sae much o’ it; and Nannie was 56 saying that he went away wi’ a guid many Victoria pennies i’ his pouch.”
“The Domine is a queer man.”
“Ay, but a vera guid man.”
“If he had a wife, he would be a’ right.”
“And just as likely a’ wrang. Wha can tell?”
“Weel, that’s an open question. What about your ain marriage?”
“I’ll marry when I find a man who loves the things I love.”
“Weel, the change for Neil, and for the a’ of us has been—in a way—a gude thing. I’ll say that.”