ybe they're frae
Mistress McOstrich.' She removed the string and brown paper.
'Vera nice socks--- a wee thing to the lairge side--but vera nice
socks, indeed. But wha----'

'Here's a letter!' cried Jimsie, extracting a half-sheet of white
paper from the crumpled brown, and giving it to his dear Christina.

In bold, untidy writing she read--

'With fondest love from Maggie.'

XVIII

PITY THE POOR PARENTS!

'It's a peety Macgreegor didna see his intended the nicht,' Mr.
Robinson observed when his son, after a couple of hours at the
parental hearth, had gone to bed, 'but we canna help trains bein'
late.'

Mrs. Robinson felt that it was perhaps just as well the two young
people had not met that night, but refrained from saying so. 'Hoo
dae ye think Macgreegor's lookin,' John?' she asked after a pause.

'I didna notice onything wrang wi' him. He hadna a great deal to
say for hissel'; but that's naething new. Queer hoo a noisy,
steerin' wean like he was, grows into a quiet, douce young man.'

'He's maybe no as douce as ye think,' said Lizzie under her breath.

'What's that?'

'Naething, John.' She sighed heavily.

'What's wrang, wife?'

'I was wishin' we had a niece called Maggie. . . . I suppose it's
nae use askin' if ye ever heard o' Macgreegor ha'ein' an
acquaintance o' that name.'

'Maggie? Weel, it's no what ye would call a unique name. But
what----'

'Listen, John. When Christina was here the day, a wee paircel cam'
for Macgreegor, an' when I opened it, there was a pair o' socks
wi'--wi' fondest love from Maggie.'

'Hurray for Maggie!

'But, John, Christina read the words!'

'Oho!' John guffawed. 'She wudna like that--eh?'

'Man, what are ye laughin' at? Ye ken Christina's terrible prood.'

'No ony prooder nor Macgreegor is o' her. Lizzie.'

'That's no what I meant. Christina wud never put up wi' Macgreegor
lookin' at anither lass.'

'Weemen was born jealous; but it's guid for them.'

'John Robi'son! ha'e ye the face to tell me ye wud approve o'
Macgreegor cairryin' on wi' anither lass when he's engaged to
Christina?'

'Of course I wudna exac'ly approve o' it.' Mr. Robinson scratched
his head. 'But surely ye're raisin' an awfu' excitement ower a
pair o' socks.'

'It wasna the socks, ye stupid: it was the fondest love!'

John laughed again, but less boisterously,

'Maggie's no blate, whaever she is. Did ye no speir at Macgreegor
aboot her?'

'Oh, man! ha'e ye