'That was nice,' commented Lizzie, twirling the thread round the stitching of a button.
He got up, went to the window, looked out, possibly for inspiration, and came back with a little box in his hand.
'That's what I done,' he said, dropped it on her sewing, and strolled to the window again.
After a long time, as it seemed, he felt her gaze and heard her voice.
'Macgreegor, are ye in earnest?'
'Sure.' He turned to face her, but now she was looking down at the ring.
'It'll be Mistress Baldwin's niece,' she said, at last.
'Hoo did ye ken?'
'A nice lass, but ower young like yersel'. An' yet'—she lifted her eyes to his—'ye're auld enough to be a sojer. Does she ken ye've enlisted?'
He nodded, looking away. There was something in his mother's eyes. . .