“If ye call a thing ‘antique,’” explained Christina, “folk forget its ugliness. An’ the public likes a thing wi’ ‘novel’ on it, though they wudna believe ye if ye said it was new. An’ as for ‘gift’—weel, that adds to the inkpot’s chances o’ findin’ a customer. D’ye see?”
“Ay,” said the old woman. “Ye’re a clever lassie, but I doobt ye’ll never get ninepence.”
“Gi’e me a week,” said Christina, “an’ if it doesna disappear in that time, we’ll keep it till Christmas an’ reduce it to a shillin’. But I think a week’ll suffice.”
M. Tod hesitated ere she gently said: “But ye’ll no try to cod onybody, dearie?”
Christina waved her hand in the direction of the card. “I’ll leave the public to cod itsel’,” she said. “Noo it’s time ye was gettin’ ready for yer walk.”
* * * * *
It may have been that Christina, in the back of her mind, saw in Macgregor a possible customer for the ugly inkpot. At any rate, she was disappointed when the evening passed without his entering the shop; she hoped she had not spoken too plainly to him on his last visit—not but what he needed plain speaking. She was not to know until later how Macgregor’s employer had unexpectedly decreed that he should work overtime that night, nor how Macgregor had obeyed joylessly despite the extra pay.
He called the following evening—and found M. Tod alone at the receipt of custom. He had yet to learn that on Tuesdays and Thursdays Christina left business early in order to attend classes. He must have looked foolish as he approached the counter, yet he had the presence of mind to ask for a ha’penny evening paper. Fortune being fickle—thank goodness!—does not confine her favour to the brave, and on this occasion she had arranged that M. Tod should be sold out of that particular evening paper. So Macgregor saved his money as well as his self-respect.
On the morrow M. Tod, who still clung to the belief that the young man wrote for the papers, reported the incident to her assistant. Possibly Christina could have given a better reason than this for her subsequent uncertainty of temper, and doubtless it was mere absent-mindedness that accounted for her leaving the sliding panel to the window a few inches open after she had thrown it wide without any apparent purpose. And it is highly probable that Macgregor would have taken advantage of the aperture had he not been again working overtime on that and on the two following nights.
So it was not until Saturday afternoon that they met once more. Macgregor held aloof from the shop until M. Tod appeared—of course she was later than usual!—and, after an anxious gaze at the sky, proceeded to toddle up the street. Then he approached the window. He was feeling fairly hopeful. His increased allowance had come as a pleasant surprise. Moreover, he had saved during the week fourpence in car-money and had spent nothing. He had fifteenpence in his pocket—wealth!