“I must see him. Where is he, Shenac?” said Dan. “He must come to-morrow, and the Camerons, and then we’ll go to the raising together. Is he coming to-morrow?”
“No,” said Shenac sharply; “I told him their own barley was as like to suffer for the want of cutting as ours. When we want him we’ll send for him.”
“But you did not anger him, Shenac, surely?” said her mother.
“No; I don’t think it. I’m not caring much whether I did or not,” said Shenac.
“Anger him!” cried Dan. “You may be sure she did. She’s as grand as if she were the first lady in the country.”
This was greeted by a burst of merry laughter from the two Shenacs. Even the mother laughed a little, it was so absurd a charge to bring against Shenac. Dan looked sheepishly from one to the other.
“Well, it’s not me that says it,” said Dan angrily; “plenty folk think that of our Shenac.—And you had no business to tell him not to come, when I had spoken to him.”
“What will Sandy care for a girl like Shenac?” asked his cousin mockingly.
“Well, I care,” persisted Dan. “She’s always interfering and having her own way about things—and—”
“Whisht, Dan, lad,” pleaded the mother.