him.

'Christina,' he said piteously, 'it wasna a' ma fau't.'

Leisurely she faced him.

'May I ask what you are referring to?'

'Ye never said ye was sorry to leave me; yer letters wasna like ye,
an' I didna ken what to think. An' then the cocoa-nut fairly put
the lid on. I tell ye, a chap has to dae _something_ when a girl
treats him like that.'

'Has he?'

He winced. 'But I forgive ye----'

'Thanks!'

'--because I'm gaun to tell ye a' aboot it, Christina, an' ask ye
kindly to forgive me. Ay, I'm gaun to tell ye
everything--everything! But I canna think,' he blundered on, 'I'm
sayin', I canna think hoo I happened to get yer monkey up to begin
wi'----'

'Excuse me!' she cried, indignant. 'My monkey up, indeed!'

'Weel, maybe it wasna exac'ly yer monkey up; but I want to ken what
way ye didna write a nicer letter afore ye gaed awa'. Nae doobt ye
was in a hurry, but it jist seemed as if ye didna care a button for
me. Maybe ma letter to you wasna the thing, either, but I was that
hurt when I wrote it, an' ye might ha'e understood hoo I was
feelin'. Christina, tell me what was wrang that ye gaed awa' like
yon. Was ye--was ye fed up wi' me?'

Christina took up a pencil and began to spoil it with a patent
sharpener. 'Really, it is not worth while discussing,' she said.

'What? No worth while? Oh, hoo can ye say a thing like
that! . . . But maybe I best tell ye ma ain story first.'

'Many thanks. But I'm afraid I'm not deeply interested in any
story of yours.' She was almost sorry the next moment. It was just
as if she had struck him.

Presently he recovered a little. 'Christina,' he said quietly,
'that's no true.'

'Hoo daur ye!' she cried, forgetting her 'fine English' as well as
her haughty pose.

'If it was true, it wud mean that ye've been judgin' me unfair,
kennin' it was unfair, an' I'll never believe ye wud dae
that. . . . So, Christina dear, listen to me an' gi'e me a chance.'

'Oh, what's the use,' she sighed with sudden weariness, 'what's the
use o' pretendin', Macgreegor?'

'Wha's pretendin'?'

'You! What's the use o' pretendin' ye're hurt? Fine ye ken I'm no
the--the only girl in the world.'

'There's no anither like ye!'

'Weel,' she said drily, 'that means variety, does it no?' She drew
a long breath and moved back from the counter. 'I want to be as
fair as I can, so perhaps I'd best ask ye a straight question.'

'Ask it!' he said eagerly.

'Wha's Maggie?'