“Ye’re no’ heedin’! What’s the use o’ bein’ alive if ye’re no’ heedin’? But ye’re a’ the same, you young workin’ men. Yer rule is to dae the least ye can for yer wages, an’ never snap at an opportunity. An’ when ye get aulder ye gang on strike an’ gas aboot yer rights, but ye keep dumb enough aboot yer deserts, an’——”
“Here, haud on!” cried Macgregor, now thoroughly roused. “What dae you ken aboot it? Ye’re jist a lassie——”
“I’ve eyes an’ ears.”
There was a pause.
“Are ye a—a suffragist?” he asked, weakly.
“I ha’ena quite decided on that p’int. Are you in favour o’ votes for females? Aweel, there’s nae use answerin’, for ye’ve never thought aboot it. I suppose, like the ither young men aboot here, ye buy yer brains every Seturday done up in the sports edition o’ the evenin’ paper. Oh, Christopher Columbus! that’s when I get busy on a Seturday nicht. Footba’—footba’—footba’!”
Macgregor swallowed these remarks, and reverted to the previous question. “What,” he enquired a little loftily, “dae you expec’ to be earnin’ ten year frae the noo?”
Promptly, frankly, she replied: “If I’m no’ drawin’ thirty shillin’s a week I’ll consider masel’ a bad egg. Of course, it a’ depends on whether I select to remain single or itherwise.”
This was too much for Macgregor. He surveyed her with such blank bewilderment that she burst out laughing.
He went red to the roots of his hair, or at any rate to the edge of his hat. “Oh, I kent fine ye was coddin’ me,” he said crossly, looking hurt and getting to his feet.