"I am quite weel," said Annie, "but I dinna feel like talking."
Donald McPherson had been steadily gaining property ever since he stopped drinking. He now had sufficient means to stock a farm which he rented. He had also gained respectability by honest dealing with his neighbors and by a strict attendance at church. He had merited and gained the coveted name of douce Donald, which was not misapplied. Donald, Jr., being the only child, and of steady habits, Mrs. Murdoch placed no obstacle in the way of an intimate friendship between him and her daughter. In fact, she considered him a very suitable person to sue for Annie's hand. He was warmly received by all at the cottage; but Annie never showed him any preference above the other lads of the neighborhood. Her mother had long since realized that Wullie was right when he intimated that she was "heidstrang." Mrs. Murdoch was at a loss to know how to approach her daughter, for fear of driving her in the wrong direction; therefore she wisely concluded to let the matter alone. But young McPherson, who saw nothing in the way of settling in life, offered her his hand. She declined the offer. He was loath to accept a refusal. He pressed his suit, telling her that he had always thought of her as his future wife.
"Ye hae taen far too muckle for granted," she replied, "for I canna wed wi' you."
Donald's visits were discontinued. The mother, ascertaining the cause of his prolonged absence, remonstrated with her daughter.
"Annie, lass, what hae ye dune to young Donald?"
"I hae refused him, as was my privilege," she replied, with an independent toss of her head.
"Can ye no see where your interest lies? Donald is a clever lad, and would gie you a gude hame; and a' would be your ain when his faither and mither are gane."
"I dinna want a better hame than I have noo," retorted Annie; "and it is lang waiting for dead folks' shoon."