“But didn't you say the girls were all tomboys now?”
“And if I did, d'ye want a body to be singing the same song always? But come, what like is she? When I hear of a lassie I like fine to know her colour first. What's her complexion?”
“Guess again.”
“Is she fair? But what a daft auld dunce I am!—to be sure she's fair.”
“Why, how did you know that, now?”
“Pooh! They say a dark man is a jewel in a fair woman's eye, and I'll warrant it's as true the other way about. But what's her name?”
John's face suddenly straightened and he pretended not to hear.
“What's her name?” stamping with both feet.
“Dear me, auntie, what an ugly old cap you're wearing!”
“Ugly?” reaching up to the glass. “Who says it's ugly?”