When ten minutes had passed, M. Tod, missing the cheerful chatter, toddled into the shop.
“What’s wrang, dearie? Preserve us! Ha’e ye been cryin’?”
“Cryin’!” exclaimed Christina with contempt. “But I think I’m in for a shockin’ cauld in ma heid, so ye best keep awa’ frae me in case ye get the infection. A cauld’s a serious thing at your time o’ life.” And she got the feebly protesting old woman back to the fireside, and left her there.
* * * * *
At eight o’clock Macgregor saw the window lights go out and the shop lights grow dim. A minute later he heard an exchange of good-nights and the closing and bolting of a door. Then Christina appeared, her head a little higher even than usual.
He went forward eagerly. He held out his hand and—it received his gift of the afternoon unopened.
“I’ve changed my mind. I’ll bid you good-night—and good-bye,” said Christina, and walked on.
Presently he overtook her.
“Christina, what’s up?”
“Kindly do not address me any more.”