"'My poor lassie,' she said, bending over me, 'this is a rough home-coming you have got to the house of Craignesslin. But when you are better I will tell you all. You are not fit to hear it now.'
"But I sat up and protested that I was—that I must hear it all at once, and be done with it."
"Of course," cried Nance, "you felt that you could not stay unless you knew. And I would not have stopped another minute—not if they had brought down the Angel Gabriel to explain."
"Not if Alec had been there?" queried the Hempie, smiling.
"Alec!" cried Nance, in great contempt. "Indeed, if Alec had been in such a place, I would have made Alec come away inside of three minutes—yes, and take me with him if he had to carry me out on his back! Stop there for Alec's sake? No fear!"
That is the way my married wife speaks of me behind my back. But, so far as I can see, there is no legal remedy.
"Go on, Hempie; you are dreadfully slow."
"So," continued the Hempie, placidly, "the nice matronly woman bade me lie down on a sofa, and put lavender-water on my head. She petted me as if I had been a baby, and I lay there curiously content—me, Elizabeth Chrystie, that never before let man or woman lay a hand on me——"
"Exactly," said Nance; "was he very nice-looking?"
"Who?"