They had arrived at Carnation's cottage, and the consciousness of the eye of Tibbie Lockhart out of the kitchen window was upon the youth.
"I shan't—show it to me here!" said Carnation, swinging the bag of books through the open front door in a casual and school-girlish manner.
"I can't. I don't want Tibbie to know about it—nobody but you must see it!"
"Are you sure nobody has seen it—no girl in Edinburgh—nobody in Cairn Edward?"
"No one at all—not even my mother, not since I got it. I kept it for you, Carnation."
"Is it very pretty?"
"Yes, very pretty! Come in here; you will be sorry if you don't!"
"Well, I will come—just for a moment!"
They went round to the gable of the cottage where, being sheltered from the wind, a couple of sentinel Irish yews grew tall and erect. Between them there was a little bower. John Charles took the little flat box out of his pocket and opened it.
A gold class medal lay within, not fitting very well on account of a thin blue ribbon which the proprietor had strung through a clasp at the top.