‘Or what you will take as a proof of my liking for Pansy, according to the light in which you regard it. At anyrate, I hope you won’t be annoyed with me.’
‘No a bit, no a bit, whatever it be.—But what is’t?’
‘Pansy does not know that I am going to speak to you about it, so you must not be displeased with her, whatever you may think of me. Philip says there can be no harm in speaking to you, and wishes me to do it.’
‘Guid-sake!—is there onything wrang?’
‘No, no; we think everything is right, and that they will be a very happy couple. Have you never considered that Pansy will want to marry some day?’
Sam was relieved. Although Madge had been speaking with a smile on her face all the time, he had been a little puzzled, and for a second vaguely alarmed on his daughter’s account. When he heard this question from her, he began to understand.
‘Ay, whiles the notion has come into my head—she’s a bonnie lass and a guid lass, and it’s natural for women-folk to think about marriage. But it appeared to me that there was time enough to fash about thae things, and I just let the notion gang by.’
‘But you will have to consider it seriously—and soon. Suppose the man she wanted did not please you: would you say that she must do as she is bid, and refuse him?’
Sam took up the dead stem of a fern, and whilst he was breaking it into small pieces, considered very wisely.
‘Wha is the man?’ he asked abruptly, comprehending what Madge was hesitating to explain, and coming to the point at once.