He got no answer.
“I’d a little rather it had been Graeme, but Rosie would be a sight better than neither of them.”
“I’m by no means sure of that,” said Mrs Snow, sharply. “Rosie’s no’ a good bairn just now, and I’m no’ weel pleased with her.”
“Don’t be hard on Rosie,” said Mr Snow, gently.
“Hard on her! You ought to have more sense by this time. Rosie’s no’ thinking about the minister, and he hasna been thinking o’ her till lately—only men are such fools. Forgive me for saying it about the minister.”
“Well, I thought, myself, it was Graeme for a spell, and I’d a little rather it would be. She’s older, and she’s just right in every way. It would be a blessing to more than the minister. It seems as though it was just the right thing. Now, don’t it?”
“I canna say. It is none the more likely to come to pass because of that, as you might ken yourself by this time,” said his wife, gravely.
“Oh, well, I don’t know about that. There’s Aleck and Emily.”
“Hoot, fie, man! They cared for one another, and neither Miss Graeme, nor her sister, care a penny piece for yon man—for the minister, I mean.”
“You don’t think him good enough,” said Mr Snow, discontentedly.