“Oh, mercy!” she exclaimed. “I didna mean——”
Recovering the missile from the floor, he said gravely: “My! ye’re a comic!”
“I’m not! I tell ye I didna mean it. Did it hurt ye?”
“No’ likely! I ken ye didna try it.” He smiled faintly. “If ye had tried to hit me, ye wud ha’e missed me.”
“If I had tried, I wud ha’e hit ye a heap harder,” she said indignantly.
“Try, then.” His smile broadened as he offered her the cake. “I’ll stan’ still.”
Christina’s sporting instinct was roused. “I’ll bet ye the price o’ the cake I hit ye.” And let fly.
It went over his left shoulder.
“Ha’e anither shot,” he said, stooping to pick up the rubber.
But as swiftly as it had gone her professional dignity returned. Macgregor came back to the counter to receive a stiff: “Thank you. Do you require anything else to-day?”