She caught his eye, and he smiled back, but absently. He was wondering what Christina was doing and how she would take his letter in the morning. . . . He consulted his watch. A long, empty evening lay before him. How on earth was he to fill it? He wanted distraction, and already his companions' chaff was getting tiresome.
On the spur of the moment—'What aboot a pictur hoose?' he said.
'That's the cheese!' cried Willie.
But Maggie shook her head and sighed, and explained that her mother was expecting her home for tea, and sighed again.
'Ha'e yer tea wi' us,' said the hospitable Macgregor.
She glanced at him under lowered lashes, her colour rising. 'My! ye're awfu' kind,' she said softly. 'I wish to goodness I could.'
'Scoot hame an' tell yer mither, an' we'll wait for ye here,' said stage-manager William.
'I wudna trust you . . . but I think I could trust him.'
'Oh, we'll wait sure enough,' Macgregor said indifferently.
'I'll risk it!' she cried, and straightway departed.