“Exactly so! That is what I complain of. All these gifts to you and the villagers, were really taken from me. I have not been remembered. Last Christmas I was first of all. A woman between two men always makes loss and trouble. I ought to have known that.”
“Weel, Neil,” said Margot, “there’s other kindnesses you can think o’er.”
“I have not had a single New Year’s gift this year—yet. I suppose Reginald will not forget me. I have my little offering to him ready;” and he took a small box from his pocket, and showed them a rather pretty pair of sleeve buttons. “Yes, they are pretty,” he commented, “rather more than I could afford, but Reginald will return the compliment. 143 I dare say it will be the only one I shall receive.”
“You ought not to forget, Neil,” said Margot, in a not very amiable tone, “you ought to remember, that you had your New Year’s gifts at Midsummer.”
“Oh, I never forget that! I could not, if I would,” he answered with an air of injury, and Christine to avert open disagreement, asked, “Where will you stay in Glasgow, Neil?”
“I shall stay with Reginald, at his sister’s house. She lives in highly respectable style, at number twelve, Monteith Row. The row is a fine row o’ stone houses, facing the famous Glasgow Green, and the Clyde river. She is a great beauty, and I expect to be the honored guest of the occasion.”
“Will you hae time to hunt up your brithers in Glasgow? Some o’ them will nae doubt be in port, and you might call at Allan’s house, and tell them that little Jamie is doing fine.”
“I do not expect I shall have a moment to spare. If I have, I will make inquiries. I think, however, Miss Rath is going to make rather a gay time in my honor, and I shall feel obligated to observe all its occasions.”
“How old is Miss Rath?” asked Christine.
“I have never asked her age. I suppose she is over twenty, as she controls her own property.”