His grandmother looked at him in amazement.
“I doubt, laddie, you hardly ken what you are saying.”
“I ken fine, grannie. If they want to see Katie, they must come to the house here, to my mother and you. I’m no’ to have the responsibility.”
“Davie, lad,” said grannie solemnly, “if you kenned what you are saying, you would deserve the tawse. Responsibility, indeed! A laddie like you; and my bonnie simple-hearted Katie.”
“I’m saying nothing about Katie, grannie. I’m speaking about other folk. Jim to-day and Moses to-morrow, and maybe young Squire Holt—no less, the next—with their compliments and their nonsense. And as for Katie, she likes it well enough, or she might come to like it; she’s but a lassie after all.”
“Oh, laddie, laddie!” was all his astonished grandmother could say.
“I’m no’ needing her to-day,” repeated Davie.
“Davy, you are to say nothing of all this to your sister. I wouldna for much that she would hear the like of that from you.”
“I thought it better to speak to you, grannie,” said Davie with gravity.
Grannie would have liked to box his ears.