“You are in excellent spirits to-day, my dear,” said the minister, who was delighted with her gaiety. “But I hope the leddy be-na fey,” was what his old experienced cook, who, not able to tolerate a new mistress, was leaving, said.
“You used to pay visits in the evening before I came on the scene,” she said to her elderly lover. “You used to go and see your ladies: now confess—I know you did.”
“I don’t know what you mean by my ladies,” said the minister, who was, however, flattered by the imputation. “I have never had any lady, my dear, till I met you.”
“That is all very well,” she replied, “but we know what pastoral visits mean. You don’t go and see the men like that. Now there is Mrs Ogilvy, who was, you told me, your oldest friend. You never go near her now. You used to go there at all times—in the afternoons, and in the evenings, and sometimes to supper——”
“My dear, I have wanted to see nobody but you for a couple of months past,” the minister said.
“Let us go back to the old customs,” she said. “I want a bit of change to-night. I have got the fidgets or something. I can’t sit still. I want, if you understand what that is, or if you won’t be shocked, a bit of a spree.”
“Oh, I understand what it is,” said Mr Logan, with a laugh; “but I am much shocked, and when you come to the manse you must not speak any more of a bit of a spree.”
“I shan’t want it then perhaps,” she said, with a look that flattered the foolish man. “But, for the present moment, what do you say to walking up to the Hewan after supper?—and then perhaps we shall see something of Mrs Ogilvy’s two mysterious men.”
“You’ll not do that, surely you’ll not do that, papa!” cried Susie. “Mrs Ogilvy’s men are just her son Robbie, whom we all know, and some friend of his. They are not mysterious—there is nothing at all to find out—and it would vex her if we tried to find out,” she cried in a troubled tone.
“You shall just come too, to punish you for your objections, Susie. Come, come! I have taken one of my turns to-night. I can’t keep still. Let us go. The walk will be delightful, and then it will amuse me to find out the mysterious men. I shouldn’t wonder if I knew one of them. I always know somebody wherever I go. Now, are you going to humour me, James, or are you not? I shall take the last train to Edinburgh, and go to a theatre or somewhere to blow away my fidgets, if you won’t come.”