was handy, I wud
gang an' droon masel'!'

On the third day following, they obtained late passes. Willie's
uneasiness was considerable, yet so was his vanity. He affected an
absurdly devil-may-care deportment which so stirred Macgregor's
sense of pity that he had thoughts of taking back what he had said
about the cream cookies. But at the last moment his bootlace
snapped. . . .

Willie's toilet was the most careful he had ever made, and included
an application of exceeding fragrant pomade pilfered from his
corporal's supply and laid on thickly enough to stop a leak.
Finally, having armed himself with his new cane and put seven
breath perfumers and a cigarette in his mouth, he approached the
stooping Macgregor and declared himself ready for the road.

'What's that atrocious smell?' demanded Macgregor, with unwonted
crustiness.

For once in his life Willie had no answer at hand, and for once he
blushed.

XII

A TEA-PARTY

Christina was serving a customer when her two guests entered the
shop. Unembarrassed she beamed on both and signed to Macgregor to
go 'right in.' So Macgregor conducted his friend, who during the
journey had betrayed increasing indications of 'funk,' into the
absent owner's living-room, which Christina had contrived to make
brighter looking than for many a year.

At the sight of the laden table Willie took fright and declared his
intention of doing an immediate 'slope.' 'Ye didna tell me,' he
complained, 'there was to be a big compn'y.'

Macgregor grabbed him by the arm. 'Keep yer hair on, Wullie.
There'll be naebody but the three o' us. There's nae scrimp aboot
Christina,' he added with pride.

'I believe ye!' responded the reassured guest. 'Gor, I never seen
as much pastries in a' ma born days--no but what I'm ready to dae
ma bit.'

Just then Christina entered, remarking:

'It's an awfu' job tryin' to sell what a person doesna want to a
person that wants what ye ha'ena got; but I done it this time.
Evenin', Mac. Mr. Thomson, I am delighted to meet ye.'

'Aw,' murmured Willie helplessly.

'Dinna terrify him,' Macgregor whispered.

'Sorry,' she said with quick compunction. 'I'm gled to see ye,
Wullie. Sit doon an' feel at hame. The kettle's jist at the bile.
See, tak' Miss Tod's chair. She'll like to think that a sojer sat
in it. She'll never ha'e been as near to a man. I was askin' her
the ither nicht if she had ever had a lad. The answer was in the
negative.