“I was wanting you to go to the manse this morning. I am feared for the pain in my breast, dearie, and the powders the Domine gies me for it are gane. I dinna like to be without them.”
“I’ll go for them, Mither, this morning, as soon as I think the Domine is out o’ his study.”
“Then I’ll be contented. How are you feeling yoursel’, Christine?”
“Fine, Mither!”
“’Twas a grand ploy last night. That lad, Angus Ballister, danced with a’ and sundry, and sang, and ate wi’ the best, and the worst o’ us. I was hearing he was going awa’ for a year or mair.”
“Ay, to foreign parts. Rich young men think they arena educated unless they get a touch o’ France or Italy, and even America isna out o’ their way. You wad think a Scotch university wad be the complement o’ a Scotch gentleman!”
“Did he bid you good-by? Or is he coming here today?”
“He isna likely to ever come here again.”
“What for no? He’s been fain and glad to come up here. What’s changed him?”