Macgregor half turned in his chair, threw his arms upon the back and pressed his brow to his wrist.
So she found him on her return.
“Sore head, Mac?” she asked gently, recovering from her surprise, and going close to him.
“Let me gang,” he whispered; “I—I’ll never be guid enough.”
The slight sound of a key in the outer door reached the girl’s ears. She gave her eyes an impatient little rub.
She laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Cheer up!” she said, almost roughly, and stooping quickly, she touched her lips to his hair, so lightly, so tenderly, that he was not aware.