“He wears them for my sake,” explained Eppy with a soulful look at the uncomfortable Souter; then she spied the visitors. “Why, Mr. Mackenzie, it is good to see you here!” she exclaimed effusively, and she made him a deep courtesy, purposely ignoring Sir William.
“Daft as ever,” grunted Sir William audibly.
She regarded him with a haughty look of disdain. “Daft!” she repeated. “Huh! you cannot insult me now with impunity!” she exclaimed in triumph. Turning to Souter, she called him to her side with a commanding gesture.
“Noo, ye see, Robert, what has become of my breeches,” whispered Souter in Robert’s ear as he passed him. “She is wearing them,” and he winked his eye significantly.
As he approached her, she reached out a long arm and drew him to her so suddenly that it took him off his feet. Finally he righted himself and stood close beside her, his little gray head, with the bonnet perched saucily on one side of it, scarcely reaching to her shoulder.
“Friends,” she announced proudly, “this gentleman is my—my husband,” and she noticed with pleasure the look of consternation which appeared on all their faces.
“What!” cried Robert aghast.
“You’re married!” ejaculated Mr. Mackenzie incredulously.
“Poor man,” sneered Sir William mockingly.