"Is that what they call you at home?" he asked, with a mischievous twinkle.
"My aunties call me that. Father says 'Want-to-know gets on.'"
"He's right," said the boy, with a blaze in the blue eyes. "I like your father better than your aunties. Where were you going when the beast stopped you?"
"Right along there," she nodded.
"All the way to the Sheils? It's a gey long way for a bit lassie like you."
"I'm not a bit lassie. I'm thirteen."
"Really! You're young for your age!"
She was somewhat doubtful about this remark, but it felt like a compliment, so she let it pass.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Kenneth Blair. What's yours?"