“The Petrie’s—at least young Mr Petrie is at the gate,” said she.
“And ye would rather bide at home? Weel—”
“Oh! no! But if I go in for the shawl he will see me; and it is not so very cold.”
“I doubt ye may find it some cold on the hill, but run ye away through the wood, and I’ll ask Phemie for a wrap of some kind.”
“And it winna be rude?—to Miss Jean, I mean—I’m no’ caring for Jamie Petrie.”
Mr Dawson laughed.
“He’ll think the mair o’ your company when ye come back,” said he.
It was a successful afternoon on the whole. They walked quickly at first through the fields, but when they got over the hill, they took it leisurely. Then Mr Dawson said a word about young Mr Petrie’s disappointment, and Marion looked grave.
“He is very kind—they are all very kind, and I am afraid you will think me ungrateful. Oh! yes, I like him well enough, but it was only the other night that he was at Miss Jean’s—”
“And I dare say he will come back again.”