“You needn’t fear I’ll tell!” she exclaimed loftily. “I don’t go about telling secrets!”
“Oh, it would never be the same between us again if he finds out I told you!”
“He’ll never find out from me!”
Then Chirstie sat up, sobbing heroically.
“You needn’t say Wully’s doing evil! He isn’t! He couldn’t! This isn’t any fault of his! It isn’t his disgrace!”
“I never supposed it was his fault!” said his mother.
Chirstie never heeded the insinuation.
“I mean—it isn’t his! It isn’t his baby!”
Years might have been seen falling away from Isobel McLaughlin. She sat down slowly on the chair against which Chirstie was leaning. She could scarcely find her voice.
“Are you telling me it’s not Wully’s wee’un?” she asked at length.