either, I s'pose," he said in reproachful accents. "Yo' want
me me to go and leave yo', and go reet awa'; I see hoo 'tis. Yo' wouldna
mind, not yo', if yo' was niver to see pore David agin. I niver thowt
yo' welly like me, Maggie; and noo I know it."

"Yo' silly lad," the girl murmured, knitting steadfastly.

"Then yo' do," he cried, triumphant, "I knew yo' did." He approached
close to her chair, his face clouded with eager anxiety.

"But d'yo' like me more'n just _likin'_, Maggie? d'yo'," he bent and
whispered in the little ear.

The girl cuddled over her work so that he could not see her face.

"If yo' won't tell me yo' can show me," he coaxed. "There's other things
besides words."

He stood before her, one hand on the chair-back on either side. She sat
thus, caged between his arms, with drooping eyes and heightened color.

"Not so close, David, please," she begged, fidgeting uneasily; but the
request was unheeded.

"Do'ee move away a wee," she implored.

"Not till yo've showed me," he said, relentless.

"I canna, Davie," she cried with laughing, petulance.

"Yes, yo' can, lass."

"Tak' your hands away, then."

"Nay; not till yo've showed me."

A pause.

"Do'ee, Davie," she supplicated.

And--

"Do'ee," he pleaded.

She tilted her face provokingly, but her eyes were still down.

"It's no manner o' use, Davie."

"Iss, 'tis," he coaxed.

"Niver."

"Please."

A lengthy pause.

"Well, then--" She looked up, at last, shy, trustful, happy; and the
sweet lips were tilted further to meet his.

And thus they were situated, lover-like, when a low, rapt voice broke in
on them,--

'A dear-lov'd lad, convenience snug,
A treacherous inclination.'

"Oh, Wullie, I wush you were here!"

It was little M'Adam. He was leaning in at the open window, leering at
the young couple, his eyes puckered, an evil expression on his face.

"The creetical moment! and I interfere! David, ye'll never forgie me."

The boy jumped round with an oath; and Maggie, her face flaming, started
to her feet. The tone, the words, the look of the little man at the
window were alike insufferable.

"By thunder! I'll teach yo' to come spyin' on me!" roared David. Above
him on the mantelpiece blazed the Shepherds' Trophy. Searching any
missile in his fury, he reached up a hand for it.

"Ay, gie it me back, Ye robbed me o't," the little man cried, holding
out his arms as if to receive it.

"Dinna, David," pleaded Maggie, wi