he girl turned. 'Hullo,' she said coolly; 'still livin'?'
Catching sight of Macgregor, she giggled. It was not an unpleasing
giggle. Lean girls cannot produce it.

'This is Private Macgreegor Robi'son,' said Willie, unabashed.

She smiled and held out her hand. After a moment she said to
Willie: 'Are ye no gaun to tell him ma name, stupid?'

'I forget it, except the Maggie.'

'Aweel,' she said good-humouredly, 'Private Robi'son'll jist ha'e
to content hissel' wi' that, though it's a terrible common name.'
She did the giggle again.

The chance of crossing came, and they all moved over; on the
crowded pavement it was impossible to proceed three abreast.

'Never mind me,' said Willie humorously.

'Wha's mindin' you?' she retorted.

'Gettin' hame?' said Macgregor with an effort at politeness, while
fuming inwardly.

'Jist that. Awfu' warm weather, is't no? It was fair meltin' in
the warehoose the day. I'm fair dished up.' She heaved a sigh,
which was no more unpleasing than her giggle. 'It's killin'
weather for you sojer lads,' she added kindly.

Macgregor experienced a wavelet of sympathy. 'Wud ye like a
slider?' he asked abruptly.

'Ye're awfu' kind. I could dae wi' it fine.'

Presently the three were seated in an ice-cream saloon. The
conversation was supplied mainly by the girl and Willie, and took
the form of a wordy sparring match. Every time she scored a point
the girl glanced at Macgregor. He became mildly amused by her
repartee, and at last took a cautious look at her.

She was certainly stout, but not with a clumsy stoutness; in fact,
her figure was rather attractive. She had dark brown hair, long
lashed, soft, dark eyes, a provocative, mobile mouth, and a nice
pinky-tan colouring. At the same time, she was too frankly forward
and consistently impudent for Macgregor's taste; and he noticed
that her hands were not pretty like Christina's.

She caught his eye, and he smiled back, but absently. He was
wondering what Christina was doing and how she would take his
letter in the morning. . . . He consulted his watch. A long,
empty evening lay before him. How on earth was he to fill it? He
wanted distraction, and already his companions' chaff was getting
tiresome.

On the spur of the moment--'What aboot a pictur hoose?' he said.

'That's the cheese!' cried Willie.

But Maggie shook her head and sighed, and explained that her mother
was expecting her home for tea, and sighed aga