"It isn't a wee thing, Mrs. Bothwell. It's a big thing," he insisted.
"Och, sure, everything's big looking 'til you see something bigger. One of these days you'll be wondering what in the earthly world made you think twice about her!"
He turned away from her and moved towards the door, but suddenly he remembered the letter which he had written to Maggie on the previous evening.
"Did a letter for her come this morning?" he said, turning again to Mrs. Bothwell. "I wrote to her last night to tell her I was coming up the day!"
"One did come," she answered. "I put it in the kitchen, intending to re-address it when I had a minute to spare. I'll go and get it. I suppose you don't want it sent on to her now?"
"No, I don't. It was only to tell her I'd meet her here!"
"Well, I'll bring it to you then." She went into the kitchen and presently returned, carrying John's letter in her hand. "Is this it?" she said. "It's got the Ballyards postmark on it."
He took it from her. "Yes, that's it," he replied, tearing it in pieces. "Could I trouble you to put it in the fire," he said, handing the torn paper to her.
"It's no trouble at all," she answered, taking the pieces from him.
"Good morning, Mrs. Bothwell!" he said.