“I’ll make it two shillings to you,” Christina said persuasively. “That’s a very drastic reduction.” Which was perfectly true. On the other hand, the pen was an old model which she had long despaired of selling. “Nothing could be more suitable for a young lady,” she added, exhibiting the nib. “Real gold.”
But Macgregor shook his head.
With apparent cheerfulness she laid the pen aside. “It’s for a young lady, I think you said?”
“Ay, it’s for a young lady, but she’s no’ that young either. Aboot ma ain age, maybe.”
Christina nearly said “about twelve, I suppose,” but refrained. She was learning to subdue her tendency to chaff. “I perceive,” she said gravely. “Is she fond of needlework?”
“I couldna say. She’s gettin’ a pink dress, but I think her mither’s sewin’ it for her.”
“A pink dress!” muttered Christina, forgetting herself. “Oh, Christopher Columbus!” She turned away sharply.
“Eh?”
“She’ll be a brunette?” said Christina calmly, though her cheeks were flushed.
“I couldna say,” said Macgregor again.