Mrs. Robinson did not halt in her business of polishing a bread plate. “Macgreegor’s gettin’ ower easy offended,” she said, carelessly enough.
John struck a match and held it without application to his pipe until the flame scorched his hardened fingers. “Speakin’ frae experience,” he said slowly, “there’s twa things that a young man tak’s vera serious-like. The first——”
“Wha’s the young man?”
“Macgreegor.... Aw, Lizzie!”
“Macgreegor’s a laddie.”
“He’s a young man—an’ fine ye ken it, wife!”
Lizzie put down the plate and took up another. “An’ what does he tak’ serious-like?” she enquired, coolly.
“Firstly,” said John, with a great effort, and stuck.
“Ye’ll be preachin’ a sermon directly,” said she. “Can ye no’ licht yer pipe an’ speak nateral?”
“Hoo can I speak nateral when I ken ye’re makin’ a mock o’ me?”