“Really!”
He struggled against a curious feeling of mental suffocation, and said: “I was in here on Tuesday nicht. I—I didna see ye.”
“I attend a shorthand class on Tuesday nights.”
“Oh!” He wanted very much to make her smile, so he said: “When I didna see ye on Tuesday, I was afraid ye had got the sack.”
Christina drew herself up. “What can I do for you to-day, Mr. Robinson?” she enquired with stiff politeness.
“I was jist jokin’,” he cried, dismayed; “I didna mean to offend ye.”
Christina’s fingers played a soundless tune on the edge of the counter; her eyes gazed over his head into space. She waited with an air of weary patience.
“I was wantin’ a pen—a penholder,” he said at last, in a hopeless tone of voice.
“Ha’penny or penny?” she asked without moving.
“A penny yin, please,” he said humbly.