"The name, ye ken?" repeated Jock, "juist give me the nickname, if the name itself's too long." He continued to look at her in an amused way, waiting patiently. Presently Daisy turned, lifted her dancing eyes, and beamed on the big Scot.
"Ay," said Baby Jock, drily, replying to the glance, "ye're ready to talk at last, heh? 'Miss McKechnie', ye said the name was, didn't ye?"
"My name?" Daisy dimpled; "oh, my name's Daisy Nixon. Say what's the name of that boy who brought me here?"
Baby Jock stared, open-mouthed. Then he doubled up and slapped his knee.
"Heh, but ye're an odd buddy," he said; "but ye're canny, no to give ha'pence for the name if the mon himself's a'richt. Yon lad's name's Jamie Knight. Here's thae fiddles skirlin' again. Come on and have a dance, lassie."
As Daisy and her partner circled around the room for the second time, she heard a girl with a humorous nasal voice, one of a couple just behind, remark: "Say, that's like Jim Knight, ain't it. Brings a strange girl in here, and ties up the second best dancer in the hall. Look at the face on Leeby Cameron. Bet a quarter she has a word or two to say to her Jock, on the way home to-night!"
"Ay, she means me," said Baby Jock, with mock egotism, looking down twinklingly at Daisy. "Does that no make ye proud-like, to know the company ye're in. But just haud yersel', and I'll mak' ye prouder yet. D'ye see yon straight-backit fellow, with the stiff hair, third couple to the right from us?"
"Who's he?"
"Ye'll no be long in this town till ye ken who he is. Yon's Nick Cluett, the middleweight champion o' the boxin' ring. I dinna ken just where I stand in the dancin'—ye canna althegither go by what ye just heard oor neighbor, behind here, say—but there's nae doubt where Nick stands. He's the best on the floor, by long odds. I'll see that ye have the next dance with him. Nick, he never promises a dance ahead, so he'll no be down on anybody's programme for the next turn on the floor."
"Who's Leeby Cameron?" said Daisy.