“Well, Master, I have no more to say. I suppose it wouldn’t be of any use if I had. But you know what I think of it.”
“I intend to marry Kilmeny Gordon if I can win her.”
An expression of amazement came into the good woman’s face. She looked scrutinizingly at the firm mouth and steady gray eyes for a moment. Then she said in a troubled voice,
“Do you think that is wise, Master? I suppose Kilmeny is pretty; the egg peddler told me she was; and no doubt she is a good, nice girl. But she wouldn’t be a suitable wife for you—a girl that can’t speak.”
“That doesn’t make any difference to me.”
“But what will your people say?”
“I have no ‘people’ except my father. When he sees Kilmeny he will understand. She is all the world to me, Mrs. Williamson.”
“As long as you believe that there is nothing more to be said,” was the quiet answer, “I’d be a little bit afraid if I was you, though. But young people never think of those things.”
“My only fear is that she won’t care for me,” said Eric soberly.
Mrs. Williamson surveyed the handsome, broad-shouldered young man shrewdly.