“And what can he want to say to me in his own room?” cried Kirsteen.
“He did not tell me what he wanted to say; but I can guess what it is,” said Jock.
“And so can I,” said Jeanie.
“What is it, ye little mischief?” cried Kirsteen. “I have done nothing. I have a conscience void of offence, which is more than you can say.”
Upon this they both gave vent to a burst of laughter loud and long.
“It’s about your auld joe, Kirsteen. It’s about Glendochart,” they cried in concert.
“About Glendochart?—he is just my great friend, but there is no harm in that,” she cried.
“Oh, Kirsteen, just take him, and I’ll come and live with ye,” said Jeanie.
“And I’ll come,” added Jock encouragingly, “whenever we have the play.”
“Take him!” said Kirsteen. She bade them with great dignity to hold their tongues and went to her father’s room with consternation in her breast.