Elizabeth crumpled up with silent laughter; but either Mrs. McKerracher did not notice, or designedly ignored the singer. She was looking in the opposite direction, examining with a critical eye the trim fields of Jake Martin's prosperous-looking farm.
"Yon's no a place to be sneezed at, Lizzie," she remarked tentatively.
"The place is lovely, Auntie Jinit," Elizabeth returned, with marked emphasis. "Only—only——"
Auntie Jinit gave a little giggle. There was a queer mixture of girlish coquetry and masculine strength about her that was disconcerting. Elizabeth paused, afraid to go on.
Auntie Jinit gave her trim bonnet-strings a jerk, flapped the old gray mare with the lines and began her confidences in a business-like manner.
"Ye're a wise lassock, Lizzie," she said, by way of introduction, "an' ah'm gaun to hae a bit private crack wi' ye. Ye're aunt's brocht ye up weel, an' ah ken ah'm takin' nae risk in confidin' in ye. Some o' the neeighbors 'll be sayin' ye're a' that prood, but ah've always stood up for the Gordons, an' said ye were nae mair prood than ye ocht to be. Noo, aboot this business. Ah wanted tae get yer help." The girlish manner had returned, she hesitated and gave Elizabeth a half-shy, half-sly glance over her shoulder. "It's aboot him—yonder, ye ken." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder towards the receding farm-house. "There's a pint o'—o' beesiness ah'd like ye tae see Maister Coulson aboot, Lizzie—if ye would'na mind obleegin' an' auld neeighbor buddy."
Elizabeth's risibilities were nearly upsetting her composure.
"Yes," she faltered, "I—I'll do anything I can for you, and I'm sure John Coulson will, too, in your—business."
"It's no jist what a buddy might ca' beesiness, exactly." There was another coquettish glance and a toss of the pink roses in Auntie Jinit's bonnet. "But it's a thing a lawyer buddy would ken a' aboot. An' ye ken, lassie, a modest buddy like me disna like to talk aboot sich like things to a—a man, hersel." She gave another glance, quite shy this time. Her companion was silent, afraid to speak lest her laughter break forth. The contrast between Auntie Jinit's staid, middle-aged appearance, and the gay, naughty glance of her eye was almost too much for a frivolous person like Elizabeth.
"Ah want his advice, ye ken, because ah dinna ken jist whit's the best to dae. Ah ken whit ah want to dae,"—another coquettish toss of the roses,—"but ah'm no so sure jist whit's best—aboot—merryin', ye ken."