'I'm rotten, tae,' he went on, bitterly. 'Fine I ken it. But I never had an equal chance wi' you. I'm no blamin' ye. Ye've aye shared me what ye had. I treated ye ill aboot the enlistin'. But I wasna gaun to enlist to please you, nor ma aunt, neither.' He rose slowly and picked up his shabby jacket. 'But, by ——, I'll enlist to please masel'!' He held out his hand. 'There it is, if ye want it, Macgreegor. . . . Ha'e ye a match? Weel, show a licht. Is ma nose queer-like?'
'Ay,' Macgregor unwillingly replied, and, with inspiration, added consolingly, 'But it was aye that, Wullie.'
IV
THE RING
'Wha' was chasin' ye?' Christina inquired, as Macgregor came breathless to the counter, which she was tidying up for the night.
'I was feart I was gaun to be late.' he panted.
'I wud ha'e excused ye under the unique circumstances,' she said graciously. 'Sit doon an' recover yer puff.'
He took the chair, saying: 'It was Wullie Thomson. He's awa' to enlist.'
'Wullie Thomson! Weel, that's a bad egg oot the basket. Hoo did ye manage it, Mac?'
'It wasna me,' Macgregor replied, not a little regretfully. 'He's enlistin' to please hissel'. He says he's fed up wi' his aunt.'