Miss McTavish sent for Mr. Traquair. He went to her with a heavy conscience, for as yet he had done nothing toward raising the ten pounds. At her first words his conscience became still more laden.
"Traquair," she said, "you mustn't tell him yet."
It was all Traquair could do to keep countenance. "Then it's fortunate I haven't," said he, "for you gave me a free hand."
"Consider it tied behind your back for the present, for a wonderful thing is going to happen."
"Indeed," said Traquair.
"You wouldn't believe me when I tell you that the silly man is going to fall in love with me, and ask me to marry him!"
"Although you haven't offered me a chair, my dear," said Traquair, "I will take one."
All in a burst then, half laughing, half in a grave kind of excitement, she told her old friend how she had played housekeeper first at Brig O'Dread and later at Beem-Tay. And how, on the latter occasion, McTavish had displayed his admiration so openly that there could be but the one climax.
"And after all," she concluded, "if he thinks I'm just a housekeeper, and falls in love with me and asks me to marry him—I'd know the man was sincere—wouldn't I, Traquair?"
"It seems to me," said Traquair, "that I have never seen you so thoroughly delighted with yourself."