“She’s spoiling me.”
“A. H. McClintock behaving himself?”
“He’s an angel.”
He kissed her. “Must take after his father then.”
“I hope he does. He looks like you.”
Scot laughed, and with a touch of embarrassment turned to his brother. “You see what you’ll be letting yourself in for when you marry, Hugh. Got to walk a straight and narrow line to keep your wife fooled about you. And for a reward she’ll tell you that a red wrinkled little skeezicks looks like you.”
“He’s the dearest little baby I ever saw,” protested Vicky warmly.
Scot poked a forefinger at the midriff of his heir. “I kind of like the little grasshopper myself.”
“You know very well you’re crazy about him,” Vicky answered triumphantly.
Mollie only smiled. It was not necessary for her any longer to reassure herself about Scot’s love. She knew him. The days of her doubts were past.