“No Dyce ever could,” said he—“excepting Ailie. Get her to put the little creature through her tests. If she's not able to spell cat at ten she'll be an astounding woman by the time she's twenty.”
The end of it was that Aunt Ailie, whenever she came in, upon Bell's report went over the street to Rodger's shop and made a purchase. As she hurried back with it, bareheaded, in a cool drizzle of rain that jewelled her wonderful hair, she felt like a child herself again. The banker-man saw her from his lodging as she flew across the street with sparkling eyes and eager lips, the roses on her cheeks, and was sure, foolish man! that she had been for a new novel or maybe a cosmetic, since in Rodger's shop they sell books and balms and ointments. She made the quiet street magnificent for a second—a poor wee second, and then, for him, the sun went down. The tap of the knocker on the door she closed behind her struck him on the heart. You may guess, good women, if you like, that at the end of the book the banker-man is to marry Ailie, but you'll be wrong; she was not thinking of the man at all at all—she had more to do, she was hurrying to open the gate of gold to her little niece.
“I've brought you something wonderful,” said she to the child—“better than dolls, better than my cloak, better than everything; guess what it is.”
Bud wrinkled her brows. “Ah, dear!” she sighed, “we may be too joco! And I'm to sing, sing, sing, even if I'm as—timmer as a cask, and Robert Bruce is the savior of his country.” She marched across the room, trailing Ailie's cloak with her, in an absurd caricature of Bell's brisk manner. Yet not so much the actress engrossed in her performance, but what she tried to get a glimpse of what her aunt concealed.
“You need not try to see it,” said Ailie, smiling, with the secret in her breast. “You must honestly guess.”
“Better'n dolls and candies; oh, my!” said Bud. “I hope it's not the Shorter Catechism,” she concluded, looking so grave that her aunt laughed.
“It's not the Catechism,” said Ailie; “try again. Oh, but you'll never guess! It's a key.”
“A key?'' repeated Bud, plainly cast down.
“A gold key,” said her aunt.
“What for?” asked Bud.