“It doesna take you long to make up your mind,” said her father laughing. But he was evidently pleased. “You dinna like his errand? Well that was hardly to be expected. But if it hadna been him, it would have been another, and we should have lost her all the same. And it might have been worse.”
“Yes, it might have been worse.”
Jean was thinking what her father’s feelings would have been had May’s troth been plighted to Willie Calderwood. But her father was thinking that it would have been worse for him to-day had it been for Jean that the stranger had asked.
“It will be your turn next,” said he with a sad attempt at jesting.
But Jean answered gravely,—
“No. I think not I’m content as I am.”
Her father laughed, a short, uncertain laugh.
“Ay! that will do till the right man comes, and then—we’ll see.”
“But he may never come. He never came to Auntie Jean.”
“Did he no’? Weel, it came to that in the end.”