He was regarding my lady’s retreating back somewhat wistfully when Sir Hector joined him.
“What hae ye done t’ offend th’ lassie, John?” he demanded.
“I have been making up her mind to accept your offer, Hector.”
“Eh—eh? You have, ye say, John—you?”
“Myself, Hector! And yet, have I done right to influence the child, I wonder? Are you sufficiently old and reverend with years to become the guardian of a young and handsome girl?”
“Old enough!” exclaimed Sir Hector indignantly. “Losh, man, am I no’ a person full o’ years ... aye, and an elder o’ the kirk, forbye? Am I no’ a puir auld sojer-man wi’ ane fut i’ the grave? Am I no’?”
“Faith and indeed, Hector, you are the youngest old man in Christendom.”
“John, juist what are ye suggestin’?”
“Well, among other things, that you be duly prepared to eat more than is good for you, to have your slippers brought to you o’ nights, your pipe lighted, and, in fine, to be mothered morning, noon and night.”
“Whisht, Johnnie man, ye’re talkin’ wild-like, I’m thinkin’, and——”