went to
the fastening of her purse, and hesitated. No! Something told her
this was not the moment for a gift, however splendid.

'Well, I must be going,' she remarked, stiffening again. 'Kindly
conduct me to the exit. I thought there would have been more to
inspire the mind in this place. . . . Good-bye. We will take good
care of Christina.'

* * * * *

Never in his life had Macgregor been so deeply hurt and
angered--not even in the old days by Aunt Purdie, who was not now
the object of his resentment.

Willie, who always tried to make the best of things, insults not
excepted, approached presently with a hopeful appeal for a loan.

'Gang to blazes!' was the response.

Willie could scarce believe his ears. 'Macgreegor! did she no
cough up onything?'

Macgregor walked on.

'An' she fancies hersel' for a ---- swell!' exclaimed Willie
viciously.

'Anither word an' I'll knock the face aff ye!'

It was Willie's turn to feel resentment.

In the evening came a note from Christina, hurriedly written. She
was terribly busy getting ready for the morning train. It was most
kind of Mrs. Purdie. Her own uncle must have let drop to Mr.
Purdie that a summer outing this year was not possible, and Mr.
Purdie must have told Mrs. Purdie. . . . Of course, she,
Christina, would never have dreamed of going away otherwise. But
the time would soon pass, Mac, and she intended to enjoy it
thoroughly. . . .

If only she had left out that last sentence! But what true lover
has not been stabbed by something very like it in his time?

XV

THE FAT GIRL AGAIN

Macgregor dropped his reply to Christina's unsatisfactory note into
the pillar-box and, half wishing he had destroyed it instead,
rejoined the faithful Willie Thomson. He still looked so gloomy
that Willie once more demanded to be told what the ---- was up with
him. Receiving no response, Willie remarked:

'If ye tak' a face like that to yer girl, she'll be wantin' to play
a tune on it.'

Macgregor held his peace. They had just arrived in Glasgow, but
without a trace of the usual eagerness on his part.

'I believe,' said Willie, with an inspiration, 'her an' you ha'e
cast oot.'

'Clay up! She's awa' her holidays.'

'Save us! Awa' her holidays!' cried Willie, uttering, unawares,
his friend's bitterest thought--'an' we may get oor mairchin'
orders ony meenute! Weel, weel, preserve me frae the female sect!
I suppose y