“I’m thinking,” he said quietly, “that we won’t be keeping our pretty Jean here for long. It’s all very well her being boxed up every day in that china factory. There are always half Saturdays and Sundays, to say nothing of holidays, and young men will soon come courting at Bonnie Doon.”
Jean burst out laughing, but Mrs. Maclean felt vexed.
“Really, Jock,” she exclaimed, “what are you after saying now? I’ve no liking for that sort of joke.”
“He wouldn’t say it if he thought it true,” said her niece merrily. “I’ve been much disappointed in Terriford as regards the supply of young men.”
“Bide a wee, bide a wee,” said the doctor dryly. “A young woman never knows when she’s going to meet Mr. Right; he’s a way of appearing in the most unlikely places.”
Again his wife looked at him severely. “Jock, I’m surprised at you!”
“You’d often be surprised if you could look straight into my mind, woman,” said the doctor waggishly, tapping his pipe against the side of the fireplace. And then, as her aunt was still looking annoyed, Jean tactfully changed the subject.
“I wish you would tell me what you think of Agatha Cheale, Uncle Jock?”
“I wonder what you think of her?” he parried.
“I hardly know her. I liked her the day of the cricket match.”