A smartly dressed young man was lounging at the counter, apparently basking in Christina's smiles. As a matter of fact, the young man was merely choosing a notebook, and until the moment of Macgregor's entrance had been treated with the slightly haughty politeness which Christina made a point of administering to males under fifty. But with amazing abruptness she became so charming that the young man, a sensitive, susceptible creature, decided that an ordinary penny note-book would not do.
'Well,' said Christina sweetly, 'here are some at twopence, threepence and sixpence. The sixpenny ones are extremely reliable.'
After some desultory conversation in low tones, during which Macgregor writhed with frequently averted gaze, the young man chose a sixpenny one and put down a florin, regretfully remarking that he had to catch a confounded train.
With a delicious smile Christina handed him his change, and with a graceful salute he fled without counting it. Immediately the door had closed Christina realized that she had given him one and ninepence. A small matter at such a time, yet it may have been the last straw. She had no word for Macgregor as he came to the counter, his uncertainty increased by that delicious smile given to another.
'Weel, ye've got back,' was all he could utter, and her attitude stopped him in the first movement of offering his hand.
'Yesterday afternoon,' she returned coldly.
'Ay, I ken. I wish ye had sent me word,' he managed to say after a slight pause.
'It did not seem necessary. I suppose your mother told you.'
'I heard it first frae Aunt Purdie. I missed ye by less nor an 'oor. It was gey hard lines.'
Christina stared.