Wee Macgreegor Enlists Part 4

'Havers, man! What's wrang wi' ye?'

'I'll tell ye what's wrang wi' you, Macgreegor Robi'son!' Willie cleared his throat noisily. 'Listen! Ye're ower weel aff. Ye've got a dacent fayther an' mither an' brither an' sister; ye've got a dacent uncle; ye've got a dacent girl. . . . An' what the h.e.l.l ha'e I got? A rotten aunt!' Maybe she canna help bein' rotten, but she is--damp rotten! She wud be gled, though she wud greet, if I got a bullet the morn. There ye are! That's me!'

'Wullie!' Macgregor exclaimed, holding out his hand, which the other ignored.

'I'm rotten, tae,' he went on, bitterly. 'Fine I ken it. But I never had an equal chance wi' you. I'm no blamin' ye. Ye've aye shared me what ye had. I treated ye ill aboot the enlistin'. But I wasna gaun to enlist to please you, nor ma aunt, neither.' He rose slowly and picked up his shabby jacket. 'But, by ----, I'll enlist to please masel'!' He held out his hand. 'There it is, if ye want it, Macgreegor. . . . Ha'e ye a match? Weel, show a licht. Is ma nose queer-like?'

'Ay,' Macgregor unwillingly replied, and, with inspiration, added consolingly, 'But it was aye that, Wullie.'

IV

THE RING

'Wha' was chasin' ye?' Christina inquired, as Macgregor came breathless to the counter, which she was tidying up for the night.

'I was feart I was gaun to be late.' he panted.

'I wud ha'e excused ye under the unique circ.u.mstances,' she said graciously. 'Sit doon an' recover yer puff.'

He took the chair, saying: 'It was Wullie Thomson. He's awa' to enlist.'

'Wullie Thomson! Weel, that's a bad egg oot the basket. Hoo did ye manage it, Mac?'

'It wasna me,' Macgregor replied, not a little regretfully. 'He's enlistin' to please hissel'. He says he's fed up wi' his aunt.'

'She's been feedin' him up for a lang while, puir body. But ye're a queer lad,' she said softly, 'the way ye stick to a fus.h.i.+onless character like him. I was tellin' Miss Tod,' she continued, 'aboot----'

'Oor engagement!' he burst out, scarlet.

'Whist, man!--ye've a wild imagination!--aboot ye enlistin'. She's been in a state o' patriotic tremulosity ever since. Dinna be surprised if she tries for to kiss ye.'

'I wud be mair surprised,' said Macgregor, with unexpected boldness, 'if you tried it.'

'Naething could exceed ma ain amazement,' she rejoined, 'if I did.'

'I've got the ring,' he announced, his hand in his pocket.

'Order! Remember, I'm still at the receipt o' custom--three bawbees since seeven o'clock.'

'I hope ye'll like it,' he said, reluctantly withdrawing his hand empty. 'Miss Tod canna hear us, can she?'

'Ye never can tell what a spinster'll hear when she's interested.

At present she's nouris.h.i.+n' hersel' on tea--her nineteenth cup for the day; but she'll be comin' shortly to embrace ye an' shut the shop. I micht as weel get on ma hat. . . . An' 'what did yer parents say to ye?'

'They said ye was an awfu' nice, clever, bonny, handsome la.s.sie----'

't.i.t, t.i.t! Aboot the enlistin', I meant. But I'll no ask ye that.

They wud be prood, onyway.'

'Ma uncle's raised ma wages, an' they're to be payed a' the time I'm awa'.'

'Shakespeare! That's a proper uncle to ha'e! But dinna be tempted to stop awa' till ye're a millionaire. Oh, here's Miss Tod. Keep calm. She'll no bite ye.'

The little elderly woman who entered had made the acquaintance of Macgregor in his early courting days, especially during the period wherein he had squandered his substance in purchases of innumerable and unnecessary lead pencils, etcetera, doubtless with a view to acquiring merit in her eyes as well as in her a.s.sistant's.

She now proceeded to hold his hand, patting it tenderly, while she murmured 'brave lad' over and over again, to his exquisite embarra.s.sment.

'But ye'll bate the nesty Roos.h.i.+ans, dearie--I meant for to say the Proos.h.i.+ans, Christina--an' ye'll come marchin' hame a conductor or an inspector, or whatever they ca' it, wi' medals on yer breist an'

riches in yer purse----'

'An' rings on his fingers an' bells----'

'Noo, noo, la.s.sie, ye're no to mak' fun o' me! Whaur's his case?'

Christina handed her an aluminium cigarette case--the best in the shop--and she presented it to Macgregor, saying: 'Ye're no to gang an' hurt yer health wi' smokin'; but when ye tak' a ceegarette, ye'll maybe gi'e a thocht to an auld body that'll be rememberin'

ye, baith mornin' an' nicht.'

'If he smokes his usual, he'll be thinkin' o' ye every twinty meenutes,' remarked the girl, and drawing on her gloves, she came round to the door in order to close an interview which threatened to become lugubrious for all parties.

'Everybody's terrible kind,' Macgregor observed, when he found himself alone with Christina on the pavement. 'Will ye look at the ring noo?'

She shook her head and stepped out briskly.

After a little while he revived. 'I hope ye'll like it, Christina.

It's got pearls on it. I hope it'll fit ye.' A long pause. 'I wish ye wud say something.'

'What'll I say?'

'Onything. I never heard ye dumb afore.'

'Maybe I'm reformin'.'

'Christina!'

'That's ma name, but ye needna tell everybody.'

'Dinna tease. We--we ha'e awfu' little time. Tak' aff yer glove an' try the ring. Naebody'll notice. Ye can look at it later on.'

'I'm no in the habit o' acceptin' rings frae young men.'

'But--but we're engaged.'

'That's news, but I doobt it's no official.'