ly yet softly.

'Ye're no sayin' a great deal,' she remarked at last. 'What girl
are ye thinkin' aboot?'

'Ach, I'm dashed wearit,' he said. 'I didna sleep a wink last
nicht.'

'Puir sojer laddie!' Her smooth, hot cheek touched his. 'Pit yer
heid on ma shouther. . . . I like ye because ye're shy . . . but
ye needna be ower shy.'

Suddenly he gave a foolish laugh and thrust his arm round her
waist. She heaved a sigh of content.

* * * * *

By making all haste Macgregor managed to get back to the camp in
advance of Willie. He was in bed, his eyes hard shut, when his
friend appeared in the billet.

Willie, who was unusually flushed, bent over him and, sniggering,
asked questions. Getting no response, he retired grinning and
winking at no one in particular.

Macgregor did not sleep well. If you could have listened to his
secret thoughts you would have heard, among other dreary things--

'But I didna kiss her; I didna kiss her.'

XVI

CONSCIENCE AND A COCOA-NUT

With one thing and another Christina, during her first evening in
Aberdeen, had no opportunity of sending her betrothed more than a
postcard announcing her safe arrival; but she went to bed with
every intention of sending him on the morrow the longest and
sweetest letter she had ever written. The receipt of Macgregor's
letter, with all its implied reproaches, however, not only hurt her
feelings, but set her pride up in arms. 'He had nae business to
write as if I was a selfish thing; as if I had nae right to decide
for masel'!' As a matter of fact, her sole reason for accepting
Mrs. Purdie's invitation had been a fear of offending Macgregor's
important relatives by a refusal. Heaven knew she had not wanted
to put 150 miles between her lad and herself at such a time.

Still, as Macgregor might have known by now, it was always a
mistake to try to hustle Christina in any way. Her reply
condescended neither to explanations nor defence. Written in her
superior, and rather high-flown English, which she was well aware
he detested, it practically ignored his epistle and took the form
of an essay on the delights of travel, the charm of residence in
the Northern City, the kindliness and generosity of host and
hostess. She was not without compunction, especially when Uncle
Purdie expressed the hope that she was sending the lad something to
'keep up his pecker,' but she let the letter go, telling herself
that it