“What’s that?” he asked quickly.
“It’s n—nothing,” stammered John.
“There’s somebody in that room,” exclaimed Rob, putting his ear to the crack in the door. “I hear her walking around.”
“Nay, nay, Rob, it’s nobody,” protested John, pushing him away.
“Oh, oh, John Anderson, my Jo John!” cried Rob, pointing an accusing finger at the flushed, embarrassed face of the old man, “I’m on to ye.”
“For shame, Robbie, an’ me wi’ an old wife below stairs,” he answered indignantly.
“Faith, I’ll just find out who it is,” chuckled Rob, going toward the door.
“Nay, nay, lad!” remonstrated John, holding him back. “Wait, I’ll tell ye who it is.”
“Ah, I knew it,” ejaculated Rob triumphantly. “Who is it?”
“It’s—it’s the Bailie,” faltered John.