Cosmo had been gazing at her: she reminded him very strangely of Joan; but the moment he heard her voice, which was as different from that of a Scotch peasant as Tennyson’s verse is from that of Burns, he gave a cry, and was on his knees before her.
“Joan!” he gasped, and seizing her hand, drew it to his lips, and held it there.
She made no sound or movement. Her colour went and came. Her head drooped. She would have fallen, but Cosmo received her, and rising with her, as one might with a child in his arms, turned, and began to walk swiftly homeward.
Aggie had a short fierce struggle with her rising heart, then turned to Elsie, and said quietly,
“Ye see we’re no wantit!”
“I see,” returned Elsie. “But eh! she’s a puir cratur.”
“No sae puir!” answered Aggie. “Wad ye dress up like a gran’ leddy to gang efter yer yoong man?”
“Ay wad I—fest eneuch!” answered Elsie with scorn.
Aggie saw her mistake.
“Did ye tak notice o’ her han’s?” she said.