Mr Dawson listened to her with mingled feelings, but he said quietly, “What would two women folk, seeing little company, do with a big house like that? And you could never persuade them.”
“But they would see company more or less, and have folk coming for the summer. And the house is not so very big, and none too good for the ‘auld laird’s’ sister, and the ‘young laird’s’ mother. And I think I could persuade them. And if this were all settled George would be content to bide with you at Saughleas. And I could—come and go.”
“Jean,” said her father gravely, “why do you ay speak as if you were never to have a house of your own? I’m no’ pleased to hear you.”
“But, papa, I never do. That is what I am wanting—a house of my own—sometime—not just yet.”
“But I am not thinking of such a home as ye could make to yourself in the house in the High-street, but of something quite different.” Jean laughed. “I canna help it, papa.”
“But ye might have helped it.”
“No, papa, I never could yet.”
“Weel! weel! We’ll say nae mair about it. It’s nae ower late yet. We maun ha’e patience, I suppose.”
Though Jean laughed her face grew strangely grave and sad, her father thought, as they went on in silence together.
“You might think about it, papa, and speak to Aunt Jean about it. I should never feel safe or happy to be long away from Portie, unless there were some one ay with Aunt Jean. And I think that she and Marion’s mother would suit one another as no one else would suit either of them. They would be busy and happy together, and I should feel safe about my aunt wherever I might be.”