“That’s enough!”
Willie opened the door. “An’ ye best hurry up, or ye’ll maybe loss him. So long. I’ll no’ tell him I seen ye blushin’.”
Christina opened her mouth, but ere she could speak, with a grin and a wink he was gone. She collapsed upon the stool. She had never been so angry in her life—at least, so she told herself.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
John Robinson and his son sat on a pile of timber at the docks. Dusk was falling, and the air that had been mild for the season was growing chill.
John replaced his watch in his pocket. “It’s comin’ on for tea-time. Are ye ready for the road, Macgreegor?”
“Ay,” said the boy, without stirring.
For two hours he had been struggling to utter the words on which he believed his future depended.