“Haven’t ye? But ye were in our cottage. It’s no for nought the glaud whistles.”
“I don’t want to quarrel,” said Branson, “especially after speakin’ to your mother; she’s a kindly soul, and I’m sorry for her and for you yoursel’, Bob.”
Bob was taken aback. He had expected defiance, exasperation, and he was prepared to fight.
Archie stood trembling as these two athletes looked each other in the eyes.
But gradually Bob’s face softened; he bit his lip and moved impatiently. The allusion to his mother had touched his heart.
“I didn’t want sich words, Branson. I—may be I don’t deserve ’em. I—hang it all, give me a grip o’ your hand!”
Then away went Bob as quickly as he had come.
Branson glanced at his retreating figure one moment.
“Well,” he said, “I never thought I’d shake hands wi’ Bob Cooper! No matter; better please a fool than fecht ’im.”
“Branson!”