“Now; Miss Mary expects us this evening.”
“Miss Mary!” said she, a little amused and annoyed. “You would never have come to the bit but for her.”
“Perhaps not,” he confessed, “but here I am, and God bless her for bringing me to it! Will you—will you take my white heather now?” And he stood, something of a lout, with nervous hands upon his hips.
“It looks very pretty where it is,” she answered playfully. “And for what should I be decking myself in the wilderness?”
She wanted the obvious compliment, but this was a stock from a kail garden, and “Oh, John Hielan’man!” she cried aloud for the first time.
“You promised, you know,” he said lamely.
“That was yesterday, and this is to-day, and——” she could not finish for thinking of Young Islay.
“Must I be taking it to you?” he went on, making to move to the door of the hut where lay the symbol of his love and the token of her surrender.
“Wait! wait!” she cried, standing to her feet and approaching him. “Is that all there is in the bargain? Are there no luck-pennies at this sort of market?”
He understood her and kissed her with a heart furious within but in his movement hesitating, shy and awkward.