'Hush, Robert! Allow me. I must break it gently to the boy. What a cruel fiascio!—what a vexatious disappintment!——'
'Whaur's Christina?' Macgregor demanded.
'Courage, boy!' said Aunt Purdie in lofty tones. 'Remember you are a sojer—soldier—of the Queen—or rather, King!'
'But——'
'Christina left for Glasgow per the 1.10 p.m. train, one short hour before you arrived.'
'Weel, I'm——'
'She decided very suddenly this morning. She did not hand me the letter, or p.c., for my perusual, but I understood her to observe that Miss Tod was not feeling so able and desired her presence. We were real sorry to let her go——'
'Ma impression,' Mr. Purdie put in, 'is that she was wearyin' for her lad. But for ill-luck this is the maist confounded, dampest——'
'Robert, behave yourself!'
'Weel, it's a fair sickener. But there's nae use talkin' aboot it. Come awa', lad, an' ha'e something to eat. Ye canna keep up yer heart on a toom kyte.'