“Havers, man!” she said, becoming good-humoured lest he should lose his temper; “licht yer pipe. I’m listenin’.”
John lit his pipe in exceedingly methodical fashion. “Weel, Lizzie,” he began at last, “I jist wanted to say that when a young man’s gettin’ hair on his face, ye—ye shouldna notice it.”
“I didna notice it.”
“Weel, ye shouldna refer to it.”
“It was the cut I referred to.”
John sucked at his pipe and scratched his head. “That’s true,” he admitted. “Still, if yer sister had a wudden leg, ye wudna refer to the noise on the stair. It wasna like ye, Lizzie, to hurt Macgreegor’s feelin’s.”
Mrs. Robinson put down the plate with an unusual clatter. Hurt Macgreegor’s feelings!—She?—The idea! “Are ye feenished?” she snapped.
John nerved himself. “There’s anither thing that it’s best no’ to refer to—anither thing that a young man tak’s vera serious-like. When a young man begins to tak’ an interest in the lassies——”
“Oh, man, can ye no stop haverin’?” she cried. “Ha’e ye forgot the laddie’s age?”
“It’s the shavin’ age, an’ that means——”