“Is—is—he looking tremendously genteel and well-put-on?” asked the maid of Colonsay, with anxious lines on her forehead. “Is he—is he as nice as I said he was?”
“He was everything you said—except the Gaelic. I knew he couldn’t be so bad as that sounded that you said about his eyes. I—I never saw a more becoming man. If I had known just how noble he looked, I’d have sent him stacks of poetry,” whereat Kate moaned again, rocked herself in her chair most piteously, and swore she could never have the impudence to see him till she had her new frock from the dressmakers.
“He’ll be thinking I’m refined and quite the lady,” she said, “and I’m just the same plain Kate I was in Colonsay, and him a regular Captain! It was all your fault, with your fancy letters. Oh, Lennox Dyce, I think I hate you, just: lend me your hanky,—mine’s all wet with greeting.”
“If you weren’t so big and temper wasn’t sinful, I’d shake you!” said Bud, producing her handkerchief. “You were just on your last legs for a sailor, and you’d never have put a hand on one if I didn’t write these letters. And now, when the sweetest sailor in the land is brought to your doorstep, you don’t ’preciate your privileges and have a grateful heart, but turn round and yelp at me. I tell you, Kate MacNeill, sailors are mighty scarce and sassy in a little place like this, and none too easy picked up, and ’stead of sitting there, with a smut on your nose and tide-marks on your eyebrows, mourning, you’d best arise and shine, or somebody with their wits about them ’ll snap him up. I’d do it myself if it wouldn’t be not honourable to you.”
“Oh! if I just had another week or two’s geography!” said Kate dolefully.
Bud had to laugh—she could not help herself; and the more she laughed, the more tragic grew the servant’s face.
“Seems to me,” said Bud, “that I’ve got to run this loving business all along the line: you don’t know the least thing about it after g-o, go. Why, Kate, I’m telling you Charles is afraid of you more than you are of him. He thought you’d be that educated you’d wear specs, and stand quite stiff talking poetry all the time, and I had to tell him every dinky bit in these letters were written by me.”
“Then that’s worse!” cried the servant, more distressed than ever. “For he’ll think I canna write myself, and I can write like fury if you only give me a decent pen, and shut the door, and don’t bother me.”
“No fears!” said Bud; “I made that all right. I said you were too busy housekeeping, and I guess it’s more a housekeeper than a school-ma’rm Charles needs. Anyhow, he’s so much in love with you, he’d marry you if you were only half-way through the Twopenny. He’s plump head over heels, and it’s up to you, as a sensible girl, not to conceal that you like him some yourself.”
“I’ll not know what to say to him,” said Kate, “and he always was so clever: half the time I couldna understand him if it wasn’t for his eyes.”