“Oh, we’ve nae quarrel,” he returned. “What did ye say was the name o’ that damaged boat ye saw the day?”
* * * * *
He went to bed not unhappy. He would find a way of knowing Christina better and proving to her that the painting trade was as good as any.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Ye’ve been in business a long time, Miss Tod,” said Christina on Monday afternoon, looking up from the front advertising page of a newspaper; “so I wish ye wud tell me yer honest opinion o’ business in general.”
M. Tod paused in the act of polishing a fancy ink-pot (she had spasms of industry for which there was no need) and stared in bewildered fashion at her assistant. “Dearie me, lassie!” she exclaimed, “ye say the queerest things! Ma honest opinion o’ business? I’m sure I never thought aboot——”
“I’ll put it anither way. Supposin’ ye was back at the schule, an’ ye was asked to define business—ye ken what define means—what wud be yer answer?”
“Is it fun ye’re after?” M. Tod enquired, a trifle suspiciously.