"What a naughty boy you are getting! I wonder whether I ought to tell on you or not?"
This time he tried another of his ingenuous smiles.
"You wouldn't tell on me, Madge!"
"Oh, indeed! Why should I care about your reputation?"
Mr. Walkingshaw deliberately faced the situation. He had not meant to commit himself that evening—not, in fact, till he had enjoyed an untrammeled week in town; but he had placed his reputation in this charming lady's hands, and he realized he must obtain a receipt for it.
"Don't you care about me?" he inquired tenderly.
"What—what do you mean, Heriot?" she faltered.
"You are everything to me," he answered, and looking into her black eyes, inwardly decided that this expressed very little more than the precise truth.