"Nay, but,"——said I, and then held fast again.
"Here's a young woman that's keen to hear of her home, of her sisters, of Queen Mary Strathsay, and of Margray's little Graeme!"
"What do I care for Johnny Graeme? the little old man!"
"What, indeed? And you'll not be home a day and night before you'll be tossing and hushing him, and the moon'll not be too good for him to have, should he cry for it!"
"Johnny Graeme?"
"No. Angus Graeme!"
"Oh!—Margray has a son? Why didn't you tell me before?"
"When you were so eager to know!"
"It's all in my letters, I suppose. But Margray has a son, and she's named it for you, and her husband let her?"
"'Deed, he wasn't asked."